THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, "Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought 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, And saints, upon their garments white, And the mother gave, in tears and pain, Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, THE LIGHT OF STARS. THE night is come, but not too soon; All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven, Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? Oh, no! from that blue tent above, G And earnest thoughts within me rise, Suspended in the evening skies, O star of strength! I see thee stand Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, Within my breast there is no light, The star of the unconquered will, And thou too, whosoe'er thou art, Oh, fear not in a world like this, FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, Wake the better soul, that slumbered, Ere the evening lamps are lighted, Then the forms of the departed He, the young and strong, who cherished By the road-side fell and perished, They, the holy ones and weakly, And with them the Being Beauteous, With a slow and noiseless footstep And she sits and gazes at me Uttered not, yet comprehended, Oh, though oft depressed and lonely, Such as these have lived and died. SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. |