The Poetry Corner

Rest

By George William Russell

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.