The Eighth Sin/Song

by Christopher Morley

For works with similar titles, see Song.

SONG.

O cherry-tree, let slip your petals bright
A whirling flight
Of April snow,
O let them eddy in the windy height
Then drift upon the grass below.

O cool blue harbours of twilight
Unmoor your galleons white
And trim their spars
Come plunging through the purple night
The great armada of the stars.