Leave not your bough, my slender song-bird sweet, <br />But pipe me now your roundelay complete. <br /> <br />Come, gentle breeze, and tarrying on your way, <br />Whisper my trees what you have seen to-day. <br /> <br />Stand, golden cloud, until my song be done, <br />(For he’s too proud) before the face of the sun. <br /> <br />So one did sing, and the other breathed a story; <br />Then both took wing, and the sun stepped forth in glory.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/companions/
