That if that brighter life were actual fact,
And all who rose in golden sunshine soar,
Each must return to tell the joyful tale,
And o'er the waters shake his sapphire wings,
So all may see, and their bright comrade hail,
And talk about the tidings which he brings.
Now each returns, clad in his bright array;
Skims o'er the grassy lake with gauze-like wings,
Attracts their notice by his plumage gay,
And they collect to hear the news he brings.