di George William Russell (1867-1935)

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,
Oh 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.