Henry Timrod (1828–1867)

(Written on a small sheet of note-paper upon which a lady had requested the author to indite some verses)

WERE I the Poet Laureate of the Fairies,

Who in a rose-leaf finds too broad a page,

Or could I, like your beautiful canaries,

Sing with free heart and happy, in a cage,

Perhaps I might within this little space

(As in some Eastern tale by magic power

A giant is imprisoned in a flower)

Have told you something with a poet’s grace;

But I need wider limits, ampler scope,

A world of freedom for a world of passion,

And even then the glory of my hope

Would not be uttered in its stateliest fashion;

Yet, lady! when fit language shall have told it,

You ’ll find one little heart enough to hold it.