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Poem by Henry Timrod


  To Fairy

Do you recallI know you do
A little gift once made to you
A simple basket filled with flowers,
All favorites of our Southern bowers?

One was a snowy myrtle-bud,
Another blushed as if with blood,
A third was pink of softest tinge,
Then came a disk with purple fringe.

You took them with a happy smile,
And nursed them for a little while,
And once or twice perhaps you thought
Of the fond messages they brought.

And yet you could not then divine
The promise in that gift of mine,
In those bright blooms and odors sweet,
I laid this volume at your feet.

At yours, my child, who scarcely know
How much to your dear self I owe,
Too young and innocent as yet
To guess in what consists the debt.

Therefore to you henceforth belong
These Southern asphodels of song,
Less MY creations than your own,
What praise they win are yours alone.

For here no fancy finds a place
But is an affluence of your grace;
And when my songs are sweetest, then
A Dream like you hath touched my pen.

Henry Timrod

Henry Timrod's other poems:
  1. Youth and Manhood
  2. Hark to the Shouting Wind
  3. To Thee
  4. A Mother's Wail
  5. The Arctic Voyager

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Alfred Tennyson Dedication ("These to His Memory--since he held them dear")
  • Robert Stevenson Dedication ("MY first gift and my last, to you")
  • Eleanor Farjeon Dedication ("My body having encountered with a soul")
  • Caroline Norton Dedication ("ONCE more, my harp! once more, although I thought")
  • Robert Service Dedication ("In youth I longed to paint")
  • Stephen Benet Dedication ("To W. R. B.")

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