THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS
by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807-1882)
- HERE is a Reaper, whose name is
Death,
- And, with his sickle keen,
- He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
- And the flowers that grow between.
-
- "Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he;
"Have naught but the bearded grain?
- Though 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 should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
-
- O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'T was an angel visited the green earth,
- And took the flowers away.
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