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The Harvest is the end of the world and the reapers are angels 1989

Oil on canvas 154.8x188cm

The harvest is the end of the world;
and the reapers are angels.
- Matthew 13 v39

I saw the seraphim one summer's night
Reaping it seemed a field of endless wheat.
I heard their voices through the fading light
Wild, strange and yet intolerably sweet.
The hour such beauty first was born on earth
A dawn of sifting had that day begun
For some would not endure love's second birth
Preferring their own darkness to that sun.
And still love's sun must rise upon our night
For nothing can be hidden from its heat;
And in that summer evening's fading light
I saw his angels gather in the wheat:
Like beaten gold their beauty smote the air
And tongues of flame were streaming in their hair.

From The Nearer You Stand