The Cloud
By Sara Teasdale
I am a cloud in the heavens height,
The stars are lit for my delight,
Tireless and changeful, swift and free,
I cast my shadow on hill and sea
But why do the pines on the mountains crest
Call to me always, Rest, rest?
I throw my mantle over the moon
And I blind the sun on his throne at noon,
Nothing can tame me, nothing can bind,
I am a child of the heartless wind
But oh the pines on the mountains crest
Whispering always, Rest, rest.