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The Past, Present, and Future

In Prose and Poetry.
Clark, Benjamin Cutler

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POETRY.
 I. 
I. ETHIOPIA.
 II. 
II. AN ACROSTIC.
 III. 
III. SING UNTO GOD.
 IV. 
IV. IN MEMORIAM, On the late Right Reverend Richard Allen, first Bishop of the A. M. E. Church.
 V. 
V. HYMN.
 VI. 
VI. HAMAN.
 VII. 
VII. LABOR.
 VIII. 
VIII. WINDS.
 IX. 
IX. THE EMIGRANT.
 X. 
X. FRIENDSHIP.
 XI. 
XI. ON SEEING A SNOW-BIRD.
 XII. 
XII. AN ACROSTIC.
 XIII. 
XIII. TO SPRING.
 XIV. 
XIV. THE SLAVE-CATCHER.
 XV. 
XV. LINES Inscribed to Benjamin Lundy, Esq.
 XVI. 
XVI. THE SLAVE-HOLDER'S APOLOGY.
 XVII. 
XVII. WHAT IS TRUTH?
 XVIII. 
XVIII. PRAYER.
 XIX. 
XIX. ON THE FUGITIVE LAW.
 XX. 
XX. ACROSTIC.
 XXI. 
XXI. THE SEMINOLÉ.
 XXII. 
XXII. TO MY MOTHER—LETTY WALLACE.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. THE TWO FUGITIVES.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. PARAPHRASE, Luke XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV. ON JEALOUSY.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. I'VE SEEN.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. NO ENEMIES.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. WHAT IS A SLAVE?
 XXIX. 
XXIX. ON PREJUDICE.
 XXX. 
XXX. ON BUBBLES.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. BRING FLOWERS.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. THE CAPTIVE.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. LINES On hearing of the Burning of the Steamer “Lexington.”
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. LIFE'S STRUGGLE.
 XXXV. 
XXXV. THE TREE.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI. ON DEATH.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. THE SLAVE'S LAMENT.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII. ACROSTIC.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX. HYMN, On the Celebration of the Freedom of the West Indies.
 XL. 
XL. AUTUMN.
 XLI. 
XLI. ODE TO DEITY.
 XLII. 
XLII. GOD SPEED.
 XLIII. 
XLIII. ODE.
 XLIV. 
XLIV. THE REAPER.
 XLV. 
XLV. ODE.
 XLVI. 
XLVI. FORGET THEE.
 XLVII. 
XLVII. TO WRITE.
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII. LINES On the Death of a Child, J. W., aged 11 years.
 XLIX. 
XLIX. WHO HATH COURAGE?
 L. 
L. YEARS.
 LI. 
LI. CHEER UP.
 LII. 
LII. THE PAUPER'S GRAVE.
 LIII. 
LIII. THE CRISIS.
 LIV. 
LIV. AN ACROSTIC.
 LV. 
LV. REQUIESCAT IN PACE.
 LVI. 
LVI. PILGRIM.
 LVII. 
LVII. NO ENERGY.
 LVIII. 
LVIII. ACROSTIC, A. C. C.
 LIX. 
LIX. AN EPITAPH ON MY DOG TURK.
 LX. 
LX. DO THEY MISS ME?
 LXI. 
LXI. GOSSIP!
 LXII. 
LXII. LOVE.
 LXIII. 
LXIII. ON THE TIMES.
 LXIV. 
LXIV. MEET IN HEAVEN.
 LXV. 
LXV. BE JOYFUL!

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XLIV. THE REAPER.

There's a reaper who's been reaping
Ever since “Old Time” began,
And he claims for his theatre,
Earth,—and for his harvest, man!
128

On the battle-field he reapeth,
By the way-side, on the sea,
Everywhere this mighty reaper
Reapeth frail mortality.
Unlike 'most all other reapers,
Who ne'er let their crops decay,
He reaps on, the rapid reaper
Reaps—but lets the harvest lay.
Since this reaper began reaping,
Millions have by him been hurl'd,
And have, from life's busy scenes, been
Gathered—to the “spirit-world.”
Though he has been constant reaping,
Still the harvest is not done;
Whilst he passes by, he tells us
That our reaping-time will come.
129

Stern and bold this reaper's reaping,
And his locks are thin and white,
Yet he bravely wields the sickle,
And is reaping day and night.
No distinction does this reaper
Make—but reaps without delay;
Some of ev'ry tongue and nation
Have by him been swept away.
If we're ready for this reaper,
In the final deadly strife,
When the conflict's fairly over
We shall enter into life.
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