ON me to rest, my bird, my bird:
  The swaying branches of my heart
Are blown by every wind toward
  The home whereto their wings depart.
 

Build not your nest, my bird, on me;
  I know no peace but ever sway:
O lovely bird, be free, be free,
  On the wild music of the day.
 

But sometimes when your wings would rest,
  And winds are laid on quiet eves:
Come, I will bear you breast to breast,
  And lap you close with loving leaves.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 2282 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 24. 24. Rest
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
Poem of the Day on:
Apr 14 2004
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