 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
81
The Reaper
There are no reapers in the whitening fields,But many preying on the ripening ears
Forever scatter all the harvest yields,
Planted with toil and wet with many tears;
Eagles they are that on the carcase feed,
Not gather with the hand that plants the grain;
With ravening beak they tear the hearts that bleed,
And with their talons aggravate the pain;
But soon the Husbandman his heirs shall send,
Who from the tares shall cull the heavy wheat;
Then from the heaven the son too shall descend,
And with his welcome every laborer greet,
And give the weary ones his peace, his rest,
And to the feast invite each ransomed soul, a guest.
Poem No. 608; mid-September to mid-December 1838
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |