When it cannot dare the eye of day),
O’er the clouded heart would sway,
’Till it crumbled like desert dust away!
But here we meet with grief and grudge,
And they who cannot know us, judge!
Thus, souls on whom good angels smile,
Are scoffed at in our world of guile—
Let this, Ladiè, thy comfort be;
Man knows not us, good angels know
The things that pass in the world below;