The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1867-10-16
Death of Henry Timrod, Esq.

Who will not be panied to hear the an
nouncement of the decease of Harry Tim
rod-ho whose name has become "a
household world" in every home where
presides tho deity of love, intellect and
Christianity.
For several weeks his health has been
declining, and recently series of hem
orrbages confined him to his room and
bed Yesterday he breathed his last, and
in the prime of his manhood and zenith
of his fame, was gathered to his fathers.
The open record of Henry Timrods
life is q simple one-very unlike. however,
that of other men. He knew nothing OF
the world. In thought, a giant; in act,
he was but child Born in Charleston
in 1880, for thirty seven years he lived the
life of poet--nature denying him moth
ing which belongs to the poets birthright,
and giving him in death the open scroll,
on which was written his reward eternal.
The father of Henry Timrod was like
wise poet of no ordinary sweetness, and
when the mantle fell upon the son, the
''living fire" grew brighter, until it became
fixed and brilliant star in our Southern
armament.
In the school, at the University, as an
editor of a daily journal, and amid the
busy haunts Of men he lived as it were by
himsclf-among the creations Of his own
far-searching mind, and in sympathy with
the consciousness of its unseen powers.
His whole life had flowed from a mysteri-
GUS urn-a sacred stream in whose calm
depth the beautiful and pure alone were
mlrored-and when the end came he re-
turned to the nature he loved and the God
he worshipped, with the calm, sweet,
prophetic certainty in his soul that
Heaven was near, and Immortality about
to begin.
The secret of his success as poet was
his love for nature, and the rare genius he
possessed in portraying that love in Ian
guage which stirred the heart lie loved
Gods creation, whether in the heavens
above or the earth beneath-he loved
music, sculpture, painting, all things pure,
or grand, or beautiful 'the setting sun,
a lake among the mountains. the light of
an ingenious countenance, and: what
transcends them all, a noble action.
Nothing unworthy ever came from Mr..
Timrods pen Years ago, volume of
his poems was published; but since then:
his fugitive pieces haven averaged more
than three or four in year. Who does
not remember the thrilling lines with
which he was wont to stir the feelings Of
our people during the war-his "Charles-
ton,' "Christmas," "Cry to Arms" and
"Carolna % We have seen audiences at
their recituls rise to their feet and send
up cheer OH cheer. These poems are des-
tined to live in the English language, and
with thcm their gifted author.
We may not have appreciated him
while living-gcnius seldom enjoys its re-
ward in the flesh. But the time is now
near when the name Of Timrod will illus
trate in literature the fame which South
Carolina has derived from others of her
sons in the forum and upon the field
Mr.. Timrod could not be poet without
being Christian, and as such he died.
He clung to life and those he loved with
wonderful tcnacity, yet.his faith was firm,
and be faltered not rs the dying hour ap-
preached. Some one remarked while he
was suffering, "Well, Harry, you WILSON
be at rest" "Ah, yes" was the reply,
"bm lore is stronger thar rest" A little
later, he found Columbia Chronicle,
Sth inst.