In Charleston, December 8, 1829, the “little blue-eyed boy” of his father’s verse first opened his eyes upon a world that would give him all its beauty and much of its sadness, verifying the paternal prophecy: 

    And thy full share of misery
    Must fall in life on thee!

In early childhood he was destined to lose the loving father to whom his “shouts of joy” were the sweetest strain in life’s harmony.

Henry Timrod and Paul Hayne, within a month of the same age, were seat-mates in school.  Writing of him many years later, Hayne tells of the time that Timrod made the thrilling discovery that he was a poet; that being, perhaps, the most exciting epoch in any life.  Coming into school one morning, he showed Paul his first attempt at verse-writing, which Hayne describes as “a ballad of stirring adventures and sanguinary catastrophe,” which he thought wonderful, the youthful author, of course, sharing that conviction.  Convictions are easy at thirteen, even when one has not the glamour of the sea and the romance of old Charleston to prepare the soul for their riveting.

Unfortunately, the teacher of that school thus honored by the presence of two budding poets had not a mind attuned to poesy.  Seeing the boys communing together in violation of the rules made and provided for school discipline, he promptly and sharply recalled them to the subjects wisely laid down in the curriculum.  Notwithstanding this early discouragement, the youthful poet, abetted by his faithful fellow song-bird, persevered in his erratic way, and Charleston had the honor of being the home of one who has been regarded as the most brilliant of Southern poets.

When Henry Timrod finished his course of study in the chilling atmosphere in which his poetic ambition first essayed to put forth its tender leaflets, he entered Franklin College, in Athens, the nucleus of what is now the University of Georgia.  A few years ago a visitor saw his name in pencil on a wall of the old college.  The “Toombs oak” still stood on the college grounds, and it may be that its whispering leaves brought to the youthful poet messages of patriotism which they had garnered from the lips of the embryonic Georgia politician.  Timrod spent only a year in the college, quitting his studies partly because his health failed, and partly because the family purse was not equal to his scholastic ambition.

Returning to Charleston at a time when that city cherished the ambition to become to the South what Boston was to the North, he helped form the coterie of writers who followed the leadership of that burly and sometimes burry old Mentor, William Gilmore Simms.  The young poet seems not to have been among the docile members of the flock, for when Timrod’s first volume of poems was published Hayne wrote to Simms, requesting him to write a notice of Timrod’s work, not that he (Timrod) deserved it of Simms, but that he (Hayne) asked it of him.  It may be that Timrod’s