Trumbull Stickney

(June 20, 1874 – October 11, 1904 / Geneva)

Service - Poem by Trumbull Stickney

Chide me not, darling, that I sing
Familiar thoughts and metres old:
Nay, do not scold
My spirit's childish uttering.

I know not why 't is that or this
I murmur to you thus or so:
Only I know
It throbs across my silences,

It blows over my heart,—a long
Infinite wind, again, again!
Again! and then
My life kneels down into a song.


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Read poems about / on: song, wind, heart, life



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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