Henry Timrod (Генри Тимрод)

Sonnets. 6. I Scarcely Grieve, O Nature! at the Lot

I scarcely grieve, O Nature! at the lot
That pent my life within a city's bounds,
And shut me from thy sweetest sights and sounds.
Perhaps I had not learned, if some lone cot
Had nursed a dreamy childhood, what the mart
Taught me amid its turmoil; so my youth
Had missed full many a stern but wholesome truth.
Here, too, O Nature! in this haunt of Art,
Thy power is on me, and I own thy thrall.
There is no unimpressive spot on earth!
The beauty of the stars is over all,
And Day and Darkness visit every hearth.
Clouds do not scorn us:  yonder factory's smoke
Looked like a golden mist when morning broke.

1. Sonnets. 12. What Gossamer Lures Thee Now? What Hope, What Name
2. Sonnets. 11. Which Are the Clouds, and Which the Mountains? See
3. A Rhapsody of a Southern Winter Night
4. Song Composed for Washington's Birthday, and Respectfully Inscribed to the Officers and Members of the Washington Light Infantry of Charleston, February 22, 1859
5. An Exotic

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