Or view their radiant face.
But yet, unplaintive, do they bloom
And smile out ’gainst the sky,—
From them the birds do take their song
And bees their honey ply.
Then come the little sunbeams fair,
Leaping o’er the crumbled wall,
And gayly dancing here and there
Spring at the flow’rets’ call.
Then sweet communion do they hold,