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There 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 There 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 sayth he Have not but the bearded grain Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me I will give them all back again And he gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes And he kissed their drooping leaves It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves My Lord has need of these flowerettes gay The Reaper said and smiled Dear tokens of the earth are they When he once was 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'd find them all again In the fields of light above Though not in cruelty and 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 |