THE REAPER. 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, The flowers she most did love; She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 'T was an angel visited the green earth LONGFELLOW. THE WANDERER RECLAIMED. A shepherd long had sought in vain But yet the wanderer stood aloof, At last the gentle shepherd took The mother gazed with anguished look— She turned and followed too! DEATH OF THE FIRST BORN. YOUNG mother, he is gone! His dimpled cheek no more will touch thy breast; No more the music-tone Float from his lips, to thine all fondly pressed; His smiles and happy laugh are lost to thee: Earth must his mother and his pillow be. His was the morning hour, And he hath passed in beauty from the day, Torn, in its sweetness, from the parent spray; Never on earth again Will his rich accents charm thy listening ear, Breathing at eventide serene and clear; And from thy yearning heart, Whose inmost core was warm with love for him, A gladness must depart, And those kind eyes with many tears be dim; While lonely memories, an unceasing train, Yet, mourner, while the day Rolls like the darkness of a funeral by, And hope forbids one ray To stream athwart the grief-discolored sky, There breaks upon thy sorrow's evening gloom A trembling lustre from beyond the tomb. "Tis from the better land! There, bathed in radiance that around them springs, Thy loved one's wings expand; As with the choiring cherubim he sings, Mother, thy child is blessed; And though his presence may be lost to thee, And vacant leave thy breast, And missed, a sweet load from thy parent knee; Though tones familiar from thine ear have passed, Thou 'lt meet thy first-born with his Lord at last. WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK. THE DEATH OF DAVID'S CHILD. And the Lord struck the child that Uriah's wife bare unto David, and it was very sick. David therefore besought God for the child ; and David fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon the earth. And the elders of his house arose, and went to him, to raise him up from the earth: but he would not, neither did he eat bread with them. And it came to pass on the seventh day, that the child died. And the servants of David feared to tell him that the child was dead: for they said, "Behold, while the child was yet alive, we spake unto him, and he would not hearken unto our voice: how will he then vex himself, if we tell him that the child is dead?" But when David saw that his servants whispered, David perceived that the child was dead: therefore David said unto his servants, "Is the child dead?" And they said, "He is dead." Then David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, and changed his apparel, and came into the house of the Lord, and worshipped: then he came to his own house; and when he required, they set bread before him, and he did eat. Then said his servants unto him, "What |