The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1873-04-06
from the Southern Magazine.l
The Poems Of Henry Tirrod.

No poem which Timrod has evfr given to the
world can equal the elegy of his life. None OF
the Chattertons, or Keatses, or kirke Whites,
or Arthur Italians, who passed away before
their morning of promise had nenred Its noon,
have left behind them life-record touched with
deeper pathos. 1t seems to us the saddest
story, we'll as one of the tendcrest, that the
annals of modern literature can show. Aud
yet, over oil tho sadness, and disappointment,
and run there is thrown soft haze OF mourn
full beauty, an Indian summer veil OF ametbyst
glooms, born of the poets own soul, ~hich
almost Ieconcles to the sorrow, since,
through the subdued lights Of such IN ntmos-
phere, his beautiful creations come to us 6 lori
fed with higher and lovelier meaning than
it seen under the steady shining of n prosper
The "Sketch' of Timrod's life could not have
been as fifty prepared by any other hand as
that of his friend, Mr. Hayne. Indeed, we be-
lieve it is mainly owing to the fervor OF TINS
friendship that this beautiful volume of pos
thumous poems secs the light at all. The edit.
ing of it has been purely u labor of love (; and
there is nothing, as We have already said, in
all the book 80 full of appealing significance
as the life portrait of the dead poet drawn by
tho pencil of the living one-a picture as ten
der with loving and reverent touches as
ono of Fra AnSeico's. 1t was a falicitous
thought to preface the poems by this sketch,
for we feel sure that thereby far deeper
human interest will gather about Timrod's
name Many poet who has passed away be-
fore his prime would have died out of mems
memories but for the fragrant embalming Of
some skllful hand
We will not here attempt to go over even
the most salient points of Timrods life. We
insist upon it that all Southern readers shall
learn for themselves, through this volume, tho
sad, bitter-sweet story of their pOet-hs ardent
enthusiastic boyhood, the golden promise of
hrs ambitious youth, his briefly successful and
brilliant manhood, his narrowing war expert
cnccs bis courageous struggles, his quiet de-
spairs, not srllen, not splcnetio, only utterly
and unspeakably hopeless. What world of
heart break is wrapped up in an expression
in one of his letters, written after his sad re
verses came upon him: 81 would consign
every line 1 have ever written to eternal obi
WON for one hundred dollars in handw The
letter of the poets sister, in which she de-
scribes the closing scene of her brothers life, |
is trugcal in its simple pathos. The elder
Hallams account of his sons death, tender !
though it be, is not touched with such sacred !
grace. May we be permitted to quote 4 SEN |
tence or two ?-"'And is this to be the end of
achieved SO little! 1 thought to have done so
much. l had, just before my attack, fallen !
into strain of such pure and delicate fancies
do think this winter should have done more
than l ever have done yes, should have
written moro purely, and with o greater doll !
cacy. And then have loved you all so much;
how eau l leave you? -" / murmnred
to him, You will soon be ct rest now Yes
he replied, in Il tone SO mournlul it seemed the
wall of II lifetime of drsolaton, yes, my sister,
but love is sweeicr than restn Once, turning
10 me, he asked, DO you remember that little
poem of lni2e-
Somewhere on this earthly planet,
IN tue dust of flow, rs to be.
In the dew-drop. III the sunshine,
Waits n solemn hour for mei
Mover mind he said binding himself unable
o swallow the water offered him), Il shall
oon drink of the river of eternal life.' He died
It the very hour which, years ago, he had pre-
lictod would be his death hour. Tho wbisDer
"a nln1i no