The Cloud - Sara Teasdale

I AM a cloud in the heaven's 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 mountain's 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 mountain's crest
Whispering always, "Rest, rest."

Sara Teasdale [Sarah Trevor Teasdale] (b. in S. Louis. Missouri, Aug 8, 1884 – d. in New York City, Jan 29, 1933 (suicide )).