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A Trifle Post by :ByronCourt Category :Poems Author :Henry Timrod Date :September 2011 Read :3131

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A Trifle

I know not why, but ev'n to me
My songs seem sweet when read to thee.

Perhaps in this the pleasure lies--
I read my thoughts within thine eyes.

And so dare fancy that my art
May sink as deeply as thy heart.

Perhaps I love to make my words
Sing round thee like so many birds,

Or, maybe, they are only sweet
As they seem offerings at thy feet.

Or haply, Lily, when I speak,
I think, perchance, they touch thy cheek,

Or with a yet more precious bliss,
Die on thy red lips in a kiss.

Each reason here--I cannot tell--
Or all perhaps may solve the spell.

But if she watch when I am by,
Lily may deeper see than I.

(The end)
Henry Timrod's poem: Trifle

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Lines: 'i Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw, Her Sitting Lone' Lines: "i Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw, Her Sitting Lone"

Lines: 'i Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw, Her Sitting Lone'
I saw, or dreamed I saw, her sitting lone, Her neck bent like a swan's, her brown eyes thrown On some sweet poem--his, I think, who sings Oenone, or the hapless Maud: no rings Flashed from the dainty fingers, which held back Her beautiful blonde hair. Ah! would these black Locks of mine own were mingling with it now, And these warm lips were pressed against her brow!

Lines: 'i Stooped From Star-bright Regions' Lines: "i Stooped From Star-bright Regions"

Lines: 'i Stooped From Star-bright Regions'
I stooped from star-bright regions Thou canst not enter even in prayer; And thought to light thy heart and hearth With all the poesy of earth. Oh, foolish hope! those mystic gleams To thee were unsubstantial dreams; The paltry world had made thee blind, And shut thy heart and dulled thy mind. I was a vassal at thy feet, And cringed more meanly than