 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
THE HEAVENLY REAPER.
The Moon, my love calls fickle,
Dawning upon our sight,
Comes, with her silver sickle,
To reap the Heavens to-night.
Dawning upon our sight,
Comes, with her silver sickle,
To reap the Heavens to-night.
Sweeping the fields of azure,
Into her Opal wain
She gathers her golden treasure
Of stars which are lucid grain.
Into her Opal wain
She gathers her golden treasure
Of stars which are lucid grain.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |