Where is the Sun that smiles,
that ever shines so bright?
Where are the blazing fountains
that reflect her glorious light?
Where hid her golden hair,
the pride of all the sky?
‘Tis but behind the gloomy
Clouds of Rain up so high.
O Sun of cheerful Laughter,
cast down your rays of Glee,
and shed thy shroud of clouds.
‘Tis but our cry and plea.