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.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Siegfried Sassoon Poems
Analysis and Comments on Companions
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Companions here.