Henry Timrod

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

Henry Timrod Poems

81. The Two Armies 1/1/2004
82. Charleston 1/1/2004
83. Our Willie 1/1/2004
84. The Unknown Dead 1/1/2004
85. Carolina 1/1/2004
86. A Common Thought 1/1/2004
87. A Cry To Arms 1/1/2004
88. Youth And Manhood 1/1/2004
89. Retirement 1/1/2004
90. A Year's Courtship 1/1/2004
91. A Rhapsody Of A Southern Winter Night 1/1/2004
92. A Mother Gazes Upon Her Daughter 1/1/2004
93. Baby's Age 1/1/2004
94. An Exotic 1/1/2004

Comments about Henry Timrod

  • 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

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  • Heyyyyyyy (12/14/2017 9:10:00 AM)

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  • MEhhhh (12/14/2017 9:05:00 AM)

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  • 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]

Best Poem of Henry Timrod

An Exotic

Not in a climate near the sun
Did the cloud with its trailing fringes float,
Whence, white as the down of an angel's plume,
Fell the snow of her brow and throat.

And the ground had been rich for a thousand years
With the blood of heroes, and sages, and kings,
Where the rose that blooms in her exquisite cheek
Unfolded the flush of its wings.

On a land where the faces are fair, though pale
As a moonlit mist when the winds are still,
She breaks like a morning in Paradise
Through the palms of an orient hill.

Her beauty, perhaps, were all too ...

Read the full of An Exotic

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

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