Henry Timrod Poems
|81.||A Year's Courtship||1/1/2004|
|83.||The Unknown Dead||1/1/2004|
|84.||A Common Thought||1/1/2004|
|85.||A Cry To Arms||1/1/2004|
|86.||Youth And Manhood||1/1/2004|
|88.||The Two Armies||1/1/2004|
|89.||A Rhapsody Of A Southern Winter Night||1/1/2004|
|93.||A Mother Gazes Upon Her Daughter||1/1/2004|
Comments about Henry Timrod
She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
As buds the rose upon her cheek,
We choose a flower for every week.
A week of hyacinths, we say,
And one of heart's-ease, ushered May;
And then because two wishes met
Upon the rose and violet --
I liked the Beauty, Kate, the Nun --
The violet and the rose count one.
A week the apple marked with white;
A week the lily scored in light;
Red poppies closed May's happy moon,
And tulips this blue week in June.
Here end as yet the flowery links;
To-day begins the week of ...
Poet! if on a lasting fame be bent
Thy unperturbing hopes, thou will not roam
Too far from thine own happy heart and home;
Cling to the lowly earth, and be content!
So shall thy name be dear to many a heart;
So shall the noblest truths by thee be taught;
The flower and fruit of wholesome human thought
Bless the sweet labors of thy gentle art.
The brightest stars are nearest to the earth,