Lazy Sunday afternoon, call me to rest

In the beloved arms of your Blessedness,

Where war and peace reside as One

With neither side seeing if they won,

And only sweet memories of forgotten lore

Are remembered deep within the soul,

Wherein Life itself is truly had by all

Who seek not the e’er-persistent call

Of the holy and eternal blessed rest

That comes to those who do not seek it.

I lay down and close my eyes to sleep

Beneath the willows of this forest deep,

But rest does not come because I force it so;

Rather, rest comes when I let it go.

So, for my part, I will lay myself down

Upon this sod, this earth, this ground,

And let rest come as it will and may

Till I am in the night after a length of day.