---
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: "“Poetry,” *Times and Seasons* 2, no. 16 (June 15, 1841): 452."
printed_title: Poetry.
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
---

# Poetry

<!-- page:452 -->

[From the "Wabash Courier."]

To Miss Eliza R. Snow.

Lady, a hand to thee unknown Thy Favored bark may safe outride Thou doest well,-raise high the strain!

Would pluck one lowly flower, The storm, and reach thy home; Angels attune thy lyre:

For thee-wilt thou not deign to own, I like the rock, must still abide Thy songs re-echoing shall remain

And twine it in thy bower? Amid the tempest's foam. When other sounds expire.

Thy form hath never met my eye, I would 'twere else-for I can feel Lady, my path may ne'er be thine

But I have heard thy lays, When others bow the knee; In this tempestuous life,

High themes-in strains sublimely high, I cannot-nay, I would not steel Yet oft thy tones, like balm divine,

Poured forth in Zion's praise. My heart 'gainst holy sympathy. Shall calm my bosom's strife.

'Tis true, thy people are not mine, I Catch the music of thy song. Adieu!-accept the gift I bring

I know no creeds nor forms; My bosom vibrates at the sound- From Nature's wildest bower:

Thy light around me doth not shine, Heaven speed thee Lady! mid the throng Thou'dst scorn a costlier offering-

Alone I brave life's storms. Of saints thou shalt be found. Receive my simple flower.

Shawnee Bard.