Which scatters sunbeams on our darksome way.
My vision changed—those messengers of light,
To fays had turned,
Then trooped they o’er our fairy-land, when night
Her star-lamps burned;
They peeped in buds and flowers, with much suspicion,
For all deep-hidden sweets—for ’twas their mission.
And then they scattered far and wide, and sought
The thorny ways,
And toilsome paths, to strew with garlands wrought —