The Reaper And The Flowers

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death
And, with his sickle keen
He reaps the breaded grain at a breath
And the flowers that grow between
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death
And with his sickle keen
He reaps the breaded grain at a breath
And the flowers that grow between
«Shall I have naught that is fair?», saith he;
«Have naught but the breaded grain?
Thought the breath of these flowers is sweet to me
I will give them all back again.»
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves
«My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,»
The Reaper said, and smiled;
«Dear tokens of the earth are they
Where he was once a child.»
«They shall all bloom in fields of light
Transplanted by my care
And saints, upon their garments white
These sacred blossoms wear.»
And the mother gave in tears and pain
The flowers she most did love;
She knew she would find them all again
In the fields of light above
Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath
The Reaper came that day;
'T was an angel visited the green earth
And took the flowers away
'T was an angel visited the green earth
And took the flowers away