Henry Timrod

(8 December 1828 - 7 October 1867 / Charleston, South Carolina)

Henry Timrod Poems

1. To A Captive Owl 4/16/2010
2. Ode At Magnolia Cemetery 4/28/2012
3. The Problem 4/16/2010
4. To Rosa ----: Acrostic 4/16/2010
5. Ethnogenesis 4/16/2010
6. Hymn Sung At An Anniversary Of The Asylum Of Orphans At Charleston 4/16/2010
7. Lines: 4/16/2010
8. Sonnet 11 1/1/2004
9. Hymn Sung At The Consecration Of Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C. 4/16/2010
10. Stanzas: A Mother Gazes Upon Her Daughter, Arrayed For An Approaching Bridal. 4/16/2010
11. I Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw 1/1/2004
12. Sonnet 08 1/1/2004
13. Lines: 4/16/2010
14. Sonnet 10 1/1/2004
15. Hymn Sung At A Sacred Concert At Columbia, S.C. 4/16/2010
16. Sonnet Xvi 4/16/2010
17. Sonnet 09 1/1/2004
18. La Belle Juive 1/1/2004
19. Ripley 1/1/2004
20. Quatorzain 4/16/2010
21. Hymn - A Sacred Concert 1/1/2004
22. Serenade 1/1/2004
23. Lines To R. L. 1/1/2004
24. Love's Logic 1/1/2004
25. Carmen Triumphale 4/16/2010
26. A Vision Of Poesy - Part 01 1/1/2004
27. The Cotton Boll 4/16/2010
28. Sonnet 05 1/1/2004
29. Sonnet 04 1/1/2004
30. Song Composed For Washington's Birthday 1/1/2004
31. Sonnet 01 1/1/2004
32. Pr |aeceptor Amat 1/1/2004
33. Katie 1/1/2004
34. Dedication 4/16/2010
35. Sonnet 14 1/1/2004
36. Storm And Calm 1/1/2004
37. 1866 -- Addressed To The Old Year 1/1/2004
38. Why Silent? 1/1/2004
39. To Thee 1/1/2004
40. Sonnet 06 1/1/2004

Comments about Henry Timrod

  • zudrejigna (9/24/2019 3:20:00 PM)

    my ­n­e­i­g­h­b­or's ­ex-w­i­f­e ­m­A­k­es $81 ­ev­ery ­h­our ­o­n t­h­e ­i­nt­er­n­et. S­h­e ­h­As ­b­e­e­n w­it­h­out w­or­k ­f­or s­ix ­m­o­nt­hs ­but ­l­Ast ­m­o­nt­h ­h­er ­c­h­e­c­k w­As $19008 just w­or­k­i­n­g ­o­n t­h­e ­i­nt­er­n­et ­f­or ­A ­f­ew ­h­ours. R­e­A­d ­m­or­e ­o­n t­h­is w­e­b s­it­e ­g­o t­o t­h­is s­it­e ­h­o­m­e t­A­b ­f­or ­m­or­e ­d­et­A­i­l HERE======►► www.more.cash61.com ★★★COPY THIS SITE★★★

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  • Terry the Cork (4/13/2019 9:27:00 PM)

    We read this poem in High School in Charleston in 1970, never really giving it any credence. It is the perfect poem for a military funeral of ANY kind. At my funeral, I want this poem read and Gordon Lightfoot's " Don Quixote" played to a silent congregation.

    0 person liked.
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  • Asmus (8/17/2018 5:22:00 AM)

    Hi there,
    I find it hard to understand the poem starting with these lines:
    I stooped from star-bright regions where/ Thou canst not enter even in prayer...
    Can anybody give me a clue what is hidden in these lines? What did Henry Timrod stand for in his lifetime?
    I am grateful for a kind reply.
    Best wishes from Cologne/Germany
    Asmus

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Heyyyyyyy (12/14/2017 9:10:00 AM)

    You suck nikka ggg bbb cc

    1 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • MEhhhh (12/14/2017 9:05:00 AM)

    Mehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

    1 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (10/14/2015 1:30:00 PM)

    '' Timrod is, after Poe, the most important Southern poet of the nineteenth century. The quality of his best work, though small in bulk, exceeds that of Sidney Lanier and Hayne, and his contributions to war and nature poetry also exceed theirs. He is not a major poet, but he is a significant minor poet. ''
    [Rayburn S. Moore, University of Georgia]

    6 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
Best Poem of Henry Timrod

A Mother Gazes Upon Her Daughter

Is she not lovely! Oh! when, long ago,
My own dead mother gazed upon my face,
As I stood blushing near in bridal snow,
I had not half her beauty and her grace.

Yet that fond mother praised, the world caressed,
And ONE adored me -- how shall HE who soon
Shall wear my gentle flower upon his breast,
Prize to its utmost worth the priceless boon?

Shall he not gird her, guard her, make her rich,
(Not as the world is rich, in outward show,)
With all the love and watchful kindness which
A wise and tender manhood may bestow?

Oh! I shall part from her ...

Read the full of A Mother Gazes Upon Her Daughter

Hymn - A Sacred Concert

I

Faint falls the gentle voice of prayer
In the wild sounds that fill the air,
Yet, Lord, we know that voice is heard,
Not less than if Thy throne it stirred.

II