Let us, then, be up and doing, Learn to labor and to wait. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. HERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, "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, 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, O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 'T was an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away. THE LIGHT OF STARS. HE night is come, but not too soon; All silently, the little moon There is no light in earth or heaven, But the cold light of stars; Is it the tender star of love? And earnest thoughts within me rise, Suspended in the evening skies, The shield of that red star. |