 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
A LITTLE SPOT OF DINGY EARTH
A little spot of dingy earth
The red coals glowing on the hearth
A fossil or a flower,
The beauty of the “common day”
Would send his fancy out to stray
In field and grove and bower.
The red coals glowing on the hearth
A fossil or a flower,
The beauty of the “common day”
Would send his fancy out to stray
In field and grove and bower.
No house in that wide town I ween
Presented such a wondrous scene
Of lovely shapes and hues,
Tho' deck'd with every costly gear,
Than did the humble dwelling where
He dined on books and stews.
Presented such a wondrous scene
Of lovely shapes and hues,
Tho' deck'd with every costly gear,
Than did the humble dwelling where
He dined on books and stews.
Whatever might be brought from far,
From lands beneath the Northern star
Or by the tropic seas,
Bird, beast, or flower or butterfly,
He had a skill'd collector's eye
And lover's heart for these
From lands beneath the Northern star
Or by the tropic seas,
Bird, beast, or flower or butterfly,
He had a skill'd collector's eye
And lover's heart for these
Shells colour'd like the evening sky,
And gorgeous plumes of various dye,
And beauteus [sic] stones were there,
Nor these alone, but many things,
Some with, and some that had not wings,
More curious than fair.
And gorgeous plumes of various dye,
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Nor these alone, but many things,
Some with, and some that had not wings,
More curious than fair.
Here by his side a kitten slept,
There hairy caterpillars crept
O'er treasur'd tufts of grass,
Stuff'd owls look'd thoughtful on the shelves
And playful squirrels saw themselves
Within the looking glass.
There hairy caterpillars crept
O'er treasur'd tufts of grass,
Stuff'd owls look'd thoughtful on the shelves
And playful squirrels saw themselves
Within the looking glass.
Except the charms of day and night,
He ne'er had seen one lovely sight,
And he had never heard
The music of the woods and streams,
Nor heard, except in nightly dreams,
Free song of breeze or bird.
He ne'er had seen one lovely sight,
And he had never heard
The music of the woods and streams,
Nor heard, except in nightly dreams,
Free song of breeze or bird.
Yet was he not to Beauty dead,
And volumes diligently read
Brought visions of delight,—
They taught him how to dream of these,
Of mountains, rivers, plains and seas
And Ocean in its might.
And volumes diligently read
Brought visions of delight,—
They taught him how to dream of these,
Of mountains, rivers, plains and seas
And Ocean in its might.
Man has not power to darken all
That decorates this earthly ball,
And in the stars above,
The mists and changing clouds he read
Lessons, on which his spirit fed,
Of the deep power of love.
That decorates this earthly ball,
And in the stars above,
The mists and changing clouds he read
Lessons, on which his spirit fed,
Of the deep power of love.
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And of the most familiar things,
Without the aid of magic rings,
Could build a mightier scene
Than, in the days when elf and fay
Like common travellers stroll'd the way,
Sprang from the famous bean.
Without the aid of magic rings,
Could build a mightier scene
Than, in the days when elf and fay
Like common travellers stroll'd the way,
Sprang from the famous bean.
A knot of grass would seem a field,
Now some recess for birds to build
A solitary nest,
A tree would represent a wood,
The smallest pond become a flood
With ships upon its breast.
Now some recess for birds to build
A solitary nest,
A tree would represent a wood,
The smallest pond become a flood
With ships upon its breast.
Oh might some God in happy hour
But grant me that Protean power
Which prov'd Ulysses' skill,
Sometimes to clothe one's self with wings,
And be a thousand lovely things
With ever sportive will;
But grant me that Protean power
Which prov'd Ulysses' skill,
Sometimes to clothe one's self with wings,
And be a thousand lovely things
With ever sportive will;
I'd be—what would I be?—the bird
Fame tells so oft at Evening heard
In groves how far away,
And thou shouldst lie in thoughtful ease
Beneath a canopy of trees,
And listen to my lay.
Fame tells so oft at Evening heard
In groves how far away,
And thou shouldst lie in thoughtful ease
Beneath a canopy of trees,
And listen to my lay.
I grant the wish is somewhat trite,
But if you read my verse aright,
You'll pardon it again;
It suits, dear love, a present case,
And lovers scorn no commonplace
Which makes their meanings plain.
But if you read my verse aright,
You'll pardon it again;
It suits, dear love, a present case,
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Which makes their meanings plain.
My song should be of glades and bowers,
Of rustling leaves and waving flowers
And of the sparkling streams,
Of love enjoy'd without its pains,
Afar from all the world contains
To falsify its dreams.
Of rustling leaves and waving flowers
And of the sparkling streams,
Of love enjoy'd without its pains,
Afar from all the world contains
To falsify its dreams.
The clouds that deck the setting sun,
Or float around his course begun,
Should add their influence,
And Heaven with all its starry throng
Be mingled in the varied song
And lend a deeper sense.
Or float around his course begun,
Should add their influence,
And Heaven with all its starry throng
Be mingled in the varied song
And lend a deeper sense.
Whatever else may harmonize
With smiling lips and glancing eyes
And love of gentle heart,
The music of the woodland springs—
All bright or calm or happy things
Their gladness should impart.
With smiling lips and glancing eyes
And love of gentle heart,
The music of the woodland springs—
All bright or calm or happy things
Their gladness should impart.
Nor measur'd note nor chosen word
Should in the flowing strain be heard
It's purport to reveal,
As stars commune with stars above,
The silent sympathy of love
Should teach thee all I feel.
Should in the flowing strain be heard
It's purport to reveal,
As stars commune with stars above,
The silent sympathy of love
Should teach thee all I feel.
Alas! at this prosaic day,
One might consume a life away
Ere such a wish were granted,
Not even in thoughts dare we be free,
Our thoughts have lost activity,
And life—more life is wanted
One might consume a life away
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Not even in thoughts dare we be free,
Our thoughts have lost activity,
And life—more life is wanted
We're bound to Matter Space and Time
Our progress is in sin and crime
And bodily enjoyment,
Communion with the spirit land
Died with the last inventions—and
Sweet love's an old employment
Our progress is in sin and crime
And bodily enjoyment,
Communion with the spirit land
Died with the last inventions—and
Sweet love's an old employment
I know that in the present state
Of man, regret is out of date
For such mistaken joys,
And, in the next love-lines I trace,
Practical sense shall find a place
With all its splendid toys.
Of man, regret is out of date
For such mistaken joys,
And, in the next love-lines I trace,
Practical sense shall find a place
With all its splendid toys.
I will return to Earth again,
Clasp falsehood in my arms—abstain
From old-world sentiments,
Give up the dear old rhyme to ‘hearts,’
Talk of improvement in the Arts
And touch on the percents.
Clasp falsehood in my arms—abstain
From old-world sentiments,
Give up the dear old rhyme to ‘hearts,’
Talk of improvement in the Arts
And touch on the percents.
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |