Henry Timrod Poems

If you have seen a richer glow,
Pray, tell me where your roses blow!
Look! coral-leaved! and -- mark these spots
Red staining red in crimson clots,
...

Welcome, rain or tempest
From yon airy powers,
We have languished for them
Many sultry hours,
...

Hark to the shouting Wind!
Hark to the flying Rain!
And I care not though I never see
A bright blue sky again.
...

What gossamer lures thee now? What hope, what name
Is on thy lips? What dreams to fruit have grown?
Thou who hast turned ONE Poet-heart to stone,
Is thine yet burning with its seraph flame?
...

I think that, next to your sweet eyes,
And pleasant books, and starry skies,
I love the world of flowers;
Less for their beauty of a day,
...

Too long, O Spirit of Storm,
Thy lightning sleeps in its sheath!
I am sick to the soul of yon pallid sky,
And the moveless sea beneath.
...

The stream is flowing from the west;
As if it poured from yonder skies,
It wears upon its rippling breast
The sunset's golden dyes;
...

I

It is not winter yet, but that sweet time
In autumn when the first cool days are past;
...

A fairy ring
Drawn in the crimson of a battle-plain --
...

So, they are dead! Love! when they passed
From thee to me, our fingers met;
O withered darlings of the May!
I feel those fairy fingers yet.
...