Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967). The Old Huntsman and Other Poems. 1918.

61. Companions

LEAVE not your bough, my slender song-bird sweet,

But pipe me now your roundelay complete.

Come, gentle breeze, and tarrying on your way,

Whisper my trees what you have seen to-day.

Stand, golden cloud, until my song be done,

(For he’s too proud) before the face of the sun.

So one did sing, and the other breathed a story;

Then both took wing, and the sun stepped forth in glory.