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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.

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.