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Poem by Henry Timrod


Sonnets. 3. Life Ever Seems as from Its Present Site


Life ever seems as from its present site
It aimed to lure us.  Mountains of the past
It melts, with all their crags and caverns vast,
Into a purple cloud!  Across the night
Which hides what is to be, it shoots a light
All rosy with the yet unrisen dawn.
Not the near daisies, but yon distant height
Attracts us, lying on this emerald lawn.
And always, be the landscape what it mayЧ
Blue, misty hill or sweep of glimmering plainЧ
It is the eye's endeavor still to gain
The fine, faint limit of the bounding day.
God, haply, in this mystic mode, would fain
Hint of a happier home, far, far away!



Henry Timrod


Henry Timrod's other poems:
  1. Two Portraits
  2. Hymn Sung at an Anniversary of the Asylum of Orphans at Charleston
  3. Lines to R. L.
  4. To Thee
  5. The Cotton Boll


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