Henry Timrod (Генри Тимрод)

Sonnets. 10. Were I the Poet-Laureate of the Fairies

(Written on a very small sheet of note-paper)

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!

1. Sonnets. 12. What Gossamer Lures Thee Now? What Hope, What Name
2. Hymn Sung at the Consecration of Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C.
3. Sonnets. 6. I Scarcely Grieve, O Nature! at the Lot
4. Sonnets. 14. Are These Wild Thoughts, Thus Fettered in My Rhymes
5. Sonnets. 4. They Dub Thee Idler, Smiling Sneeringly

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