Laid in one equal bed,
When once your coverlet of grass is spread,
What daybreak need you fear?
The Love will rule you there that guides you here.
Where Life, the sower, stands,
Scattering the ages from his swinging hands,
Thou waitest, reaper lone,
Until the multitudinous grain hath grown.
Scythe-bearer, when thy blade
Harvests my flesh, let me be unafraid.