The Eighth Sin/All Lovely Things

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All lovely things conspire to greet
My lady: daisies at her feet
Sprang white and wistfully implored
Her plucking; and with one accord
The sunsets for her smile compete.

The stars, in many a silver fleet,
Set sail each night in hopes to meet
Her eyes, that graciously reward
All lovely things.

All gay and gentle thoughts entreat
Her favour and approval sweet
All sorrow, when to her outpoured,
Is by her sympathy restored:
She finishes and makes complete
All lovely things.