"A kind friend had followed Grace's footsteps. A rich, manly voice is borne upon the air. It shall fall like dew upon the stricken flower. Listen to the chant!
'There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath;
And the flowers that grow between.
'He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He raised their drooping leaves,
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
'Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath,