POETEY OF FLOWEES. 
115 
THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. 
Theee 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 nought that is fair !’’ saith ho ; 
“ Have nought but the bearded grain ! 
flliough the breath of these flowers is sweet tome, 
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 hath need of these flowrets 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.” 
