There is a reaper, Death his name;
His might from God the highest came.
Today his knife he'll whet,
'T will cut far better yet;
Soon he will come and mow,
And we must bear the woe —
Beware, fair flower!
The flowers fresh and green today,
Tomorrow will be mowed away:
Narcissus so white,
The meadows' delight,
The hyacinthias pale
And morning-glories frail —
Beware, fair flower!

Full many thousand blossoms blithe
Must fall beneath his deadly scythe:
Roses and lilies pure,
Your end is all too sure!
Imperial lilies rare
He will not spare —
Beware, fair flower!

The bluet wee, of heaven's hue,
The tulips white and yellow too,
The dainty silver bell,
The golden phlox as well —
All sink upon the earth.
Oh, what a sorry dearth!
Beware, fair flower!

Sweet lavender of lovely scent,
And rosemary, dear ornament,
Sword-lilies proud, unfurled,
And basil, quaintly curled,
And fragile violet blue —
He soon will seize you too!
Beware, fair flower!

Death, I defy thee! Hasten near
With one great sweep — I have no fear!
Though hurt, I'll stay undaunted,
For I shall be transplanted
Into the garden by heaven's gate,
The heavenly garden we all await.
Rejoice, fair flower!