Thou seest their glittering fans outspread, all gleaming like red gold; And hark! with shrill pipe musical, their merry course they hold. And where his whispering voice in music falls, God bless them all, those little ones, who, far Beauty is budding there; The bright ones of the valley break Their slumbers, and awake. The waving verdure rolls along the plain, And the wide forest weaves, To welcome back its playful mates again, A canopy of leaves; And from its darkening shadow floats A gush of trembling notes. |