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grass in fring - y play; Sail with the cloud, wave with the
long - er charm thy sight, The treas - ured rich - es of those
dream - ing pine, And float with Na - ture all the live - long day.
thought-ful hours Shall make thy win - try mus- ings warm and bright.
THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. L. O. Emerson.
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There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sick - le
'Shall I have naught that is fair? " saith he;"Have naught but the beard-ed
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes. He kissed their droop-ing leaves;
"My Lord has need of these flow'rets gay," The Reaper said, and smiled;
"They shall all bloom in fields of light. Transplanted by my care,
And the mother gave, in tears and pain. The flowers she most did love;
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath. The Reaper came that day;
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath. And the flow'rs that grow be - tween.
Tho' the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them back a - gain."
It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
"Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child."
And saints, upon their garments white, These sa - cred blos - soms wear."
She knew she should And them all again In the fields of light a - bove.
'Twas an angel visited the green earth. And took the flow'rs a - way.
