Page:The eighth sin (IA eighthsin00morlrich).pdf/59



, 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.