 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
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THIS MORN, THRO' MANY A PLEASING SCENE
This morn thro' many a pleasing scene,
In sun and shade, my course I held,
A weight of grief upon my heart
Which could not be dispell'd.
In sun and shade, my course I held,
A weight of grief upon my heart
Which could not be dispell'd.
In vain I sought to catch the joy
That seem'd to move in leaf and flower—
The breeze came to me from the fields,
But with no soothing power.
That seem'd to move in leaf and flower—
The breeze came to me from the fields,
But with no soothing power.
Birds fill'd the air with noisy songs,
The Squirrel leap'd from bough to bough—
There was no cloud in heaven to throw
That Shadow on my brow.
The Squirrel leap'd from bough to bough—
There was no cloud in heaven to throw
That Shadow on my brow.
What secret influence was there
To guide my thoughts, dear Babe, to thee,
And give relief I could not find
In Nature's kindly glee?
To guide my thoughts, dear Babe, to thee,
And give relief I could not find
In Nature's kindly glee?
The Stream that wander'd by might well
An emblem of thy life impart,
But even its music fail'd to stir
The fancy in my heart.
An emblem of thy life impart,
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The fancy in my heart.
That there are sweet similitudes,
I know, betwixt the flowers and thee,
Yet while a thousand flowers were near—
Not one occurr'd to me.
I know, betwixt the flowers and thee,
Yet while a thousand flowers were near—
Not one occurr'd to me.
I only know that unannounc'd
Thy image glanc'd across my mind,
And like a transient sunbeam pass'd,
But left no gloom behind.
Thy image glanc'd across my mind,
And like a transient sunbeam pass'd,
But left no gloom behind.
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |