---
title: Times and Seasons
description: Issues of 1840 to 1841.
authors:
  - Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints
editors:
  - Ebenezer Robinson
  - Don Carlos Smith
  - Smith, Joseph, Jr.
  - Taylor, John
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - newspaper
  - times-and-seasons
  - nauvoo
  - nineteenth-century
periodical: Times and Seasons
volume: 2
number: 16
published: 1841-06-15
publisher: E. Robinson and D. C. Smith; later John Taylor
publisher_place: Commerce and Nauvoo, Illinois
language: en
type: article
reference: "“[For the Times and Seasons],” *Times and Seasons* 2, no. 16 (June 15, 1841): 452."
printed_title: "[For the Times and Seasons]"
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/per_utah-and-the-mormons_times-and-seasons_1841-06-15_2_16
  transcription: Text from the Centerplace.org transcription (https://www.centerplace.org/history/ts/v2n16.htm), with its page breaks; this Internet Archive scan is the reference copy (its OCR was used only as a witness for OCR repair)
  identifier: per_utah-and-the-mormons_times-and-seasons_1841-06-15_2_16
start_page: 452
end_page: 452
curator_note: A Mormon newspaper published by the church in Nauvoo; included for historical study. Inclusion does not imply endorsement.
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1841 (Nauvoo, Illinois); published before 1931, so public domain in the United States
  source: https://archive.org/details/per_utah-and-the-mormons_times-and-seasons_1841-06-15_2_16
  publication_year: 1841
---

# [For the Times and Seasons]

<!-- page:452 -->

Replication,-To "Shawnee Bard."

By Miss E. R. Snow.

Minstrel, I'm proud to wreath my brow Thy heart, unfetter'd by the thrall But 'tis thro' suff'ring, we must gain

With wildest, simplest flow'ers that grow; Of human creeds and human forms; Truth's acme-wisdom's high abode-

From Zion's friends.-I scorn to bow Is prompt to vibrate to the call To mingle in their holy train,

T' accept an offering from her foe. Of Truth, when robed in native charms. Who wait around the throne of God.

I prize thy gift-it is a flower Altho' the keenest pang I've known, Then gentle Bard, I welcome thee,

Of noble tint, unknown to art; Is what I've shared in others' woe; To all our joys, and sorrows too:

'Twas rear'd in nature's holiest bower- Had not this "light" around me shone, Cast in thy lot-salvation's free-

It is the product of the heart. I'd fain have left the world below. Thou'lt find Jehovah's promise true.

Since chas'd in exile, for the sake There is a higher, holier sphere, Thou speak'st of Zion: why not, then,

Of heav'n's eternal truths, I sing; And noble, kindred spirits there, Run for the prize, her God Awards?

At friendship's voice, my pulses wake Above the ills that throng us here; Then in her cause, thou'lt wield thy pen,

True friendship is a sacred thing. With whom my spirit pants to share. And number with her sweetest Bards.

'Tis not the music of my strain-

'Tis not the muse's melting art-

The poet's touching strokes are vain-

The power of Truth, has reach'd thy heart. City of Nauvoo, June 14th, 1841.