Poem by Trumbull Stickney

Service

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.

1. Be Still. The Hanging Gardens Were a Dream
2. On Some Shells Found Inland
3. They Lived Enamoured of the Lovely Moon
4. Loneliness
5. You Say, Columbus with his Argosies

Edgar Guest Service ("You never hear the robins brag about the sweetness of their song")

Print

1459 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version