His printing office was demolished
in Sherman's march to the sea, and at the close of the war Timrod was left
in a desperate condition. He was hopelessly ill from consumption; he was in
the direst poverty; and he was saddened by the death of his son. There was
no relief for Timrod until death released him from his misery in 1867. Yet
in spite of all his trials, he desired earnestly to live, and when his
sister told him that death would, at least, bring him rest, he replied,
"Yes, my sister, but love is sweeter than rest."
Timrod's one small volume of poetry contains some of the most spontaneous
nature and love lyrics in the South. In this stanza to _Spring_, the
directness and simplicity of his manner may be seen:--
"In the deep heart of every forest tree
The blood is all aglee,
And there's a look about the leafless bowers
As if they dreamed of flowers."
He says in _A Vision of Poesy_ that the poet's mission is to
"... turn life's tasteless waters into wine,
And flush them through and through with purple tints."
His best known and most original poem is _The Cotton Boll_. This
description of the wide stretches of a white cotton field is one of the
best in the poem.
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