Classic Poem

All things are fair, if we had eyes to see
How first God made them goodly everywhere:
And goodly still in Paradise they be,—
All things are fair.

O Lord, the solemn heavens Thy praise declare;
The multi-fashioned saints bring praise to Thee,
As doves fly home and cast away their care.

As doves on divers branches of their tree,
Perched high or low, sit all contented there
Not mourning any more; in each degree
All things are fair.