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Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 2 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 52 0 Browse Search
The Photographic History of The Civil War: in ten volumes, Thousands of Scenes Photographed 1861-65, with Text by many Special Authorities, Volume 9: Poetry and Eloquence. (ed. Francis Trevelyan Miller) 24 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Henry Walcott Boynton, Reader's History of American Literature 18 0 Browse Search
Thomas C. DeLeon, Four years in Rebel capitals: an inside view of life in the southern confederacy, from birth to death. 6 0 Browse Search
Bliss Perry, The American spirit in lierature: a chronicle of great interpreters 4 0 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 2 0 Browse Search
The Daily Dispatch: September 16, 1861., [Electronic resource] 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in The Daily Dispatch: September 16, 1861., [Electronic resource]. You can also browse the collection for Henry Timrod or search for Henry Timrod in all documents.

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The Daily Dispatch: September 16, 1861., [Electronic resource], The prisoners. (search)
[from the Charleston (S. C.) Mercury.]the cotton Boll.by Henry Timrod.[published by request.] Here, stretched at ease beneath This immemorial pine, Small sphere; (By dusky fingers brought this morning here, And shown with boastful smiles,) I turn thy cloven sheath, Through which the soft white fibres peer, That, with their gossamer bands, Unite, like love, the sea divided lands; And slowly, thread by thread, Draw forth the folded strands, Than which the trembling line, By whose frail help you startled spider fled Down the tall spear grass from his swinging bed, Is scarce more fine; And as the tangled skein Unravels in my hands, Betwixt me and the noonday light, A veil seems lifted, and for miles and miles The landscape broadens on my sight, As, in the little boll, there lurked a spell Like that which, in the ocean shell, With mystic sound, Breaks down the narrow walls that hem us round, And turns some city lane Into the restless main, With all his capes and isles! Yonder bird I