Sonnet: I Scarcely Grieve

By Henry Timrod 1828–1867 Henry Timrod

I scarcely grieve, O Nature! at the lot

That pent my life within a city’s bounds,

And shut me from thy sweetest sights and sounds.

Perhaps I had not learned, if some lone cot

Had nursed a dreamy childhood, what the mart

Taught me amid its turmoil; so my youth

Had missed full many a stern but wholesome truth.

Here, too, O Nature! in this haunt of Art,

Thy power is on me, and I own thy thrall.

There is no unimpressive spot on earth!

The beauty of the stars is over all,

And Day and Darkness visit every hearth.

Clouds do not scorn us: yonder factory’s smoke

Looked like a golden mist when morning broke.

Source: The Collected Poems of Henry Timrod (1965)

Biography

Since Henry Timrod's output before the Civil War was limited to verse sufficient only for a single volume—published in December 1859—his literary reputation at the time was modest. The political activities surrounding the formation of a new nation and the impact of the war itself aroused Timrod's poetic imagination, however, and he quickly became widely known as the literary spokesman and eventually as the so-called poet . . .

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