Chide me not, darling, that I sing br Familiar thoughts and metres old: br Nay, do not scold br My spirit's childish uttering. br br I know not why 't is that or this br I murmur to you thus or so: br Only I know br It throbs across my silences, br br It blows over my heart,—a long br Infinite wind, again, again! br Again! and then br My life kneels down into a song.