Song (I)

Clark Ashton Smith

I bring my weariness to thee,
My bitter dreams I bring;
Love with a wounded wing,
And life consumed of memory
I bring to thee.

The haven of thy happy breast—
Of this my dreams are fain:
For all my weary pain
In all the world there is no rest
But on thy breast.

Printed from: www.eldritchdark.com/writings/poetry/518
Printed on: November 18, 2017