In Memoriam. - Caleb Hazen Talcott,

Son of C. TALCOTT, Esq., died at Hartford, October 26th, 1860, aged 2 years and 6 months.


There came a merry voice
    Forth from those lips of rose,
As tireless through its fringing flowers
    The tuneful brooklet flows,

And with the nurslings feet
    Engaged in busy play
It made the parents' pleasant home
    A joyance all the day.

There breath'd a languid tone
    Forth from those pallid lips,
As when some planet of the night
    Sinks in its dread eclipse.

"Sing to me, sing," it cried,
    While the red fever reign'd,
"Oh sing of Jesus,"[1] it implored
    While struggling life remained.

Then rose a mournful sound,
    The solemn funeral knell,
And silent anguish settled where
    The nursery's idol fell.

But he who so desired
    His Saviour's name to hear
Doth in His glorious presence smile,
    Above this cloud-wrapp'd sphere.

Lydia Howard Sigourney

Lydia Howard Sigourney, born on September 1, 1791, and died on June 10, 1865, was one of the most popular and prolific poets in 19th-century America. Often referred to as the 'Sweet Singer of Hartford,' she authored numerous works that included poetry, essays, and books on various subjects. Her writings, characterized by their moral and didactic tone, earned her a reputation as a leading female literary figure of her time. Sigourney's influence extended beyond literature to social issues, including temperance and women's education.

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Henrietta Selden Colt,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Mr. John Warburton,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Miss Frances Wyman Tracy,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Miss Sara K. Taylor,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

English

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In Memoriam. - Henrietta Selden Colt,

Daughter of Col. SAMUEL and Mrs. ELIZABETH COLT, died January 20th, 1862, aged 7 months and 27 days.

THE MOURNING MOTHER.


A tomb for thee, my babe!
    Dove of my bosom, can it be?
But yesterday in all thy charms,
Laughing and leaping in my arms,
    A tomb and shroud for thee!

A couch for thee mine own,
    Beneath the frost and snow!
So fondly cradled, soft and warm,
And sheltered from each breath of storm,
    A wintry couch for thee!

Thy noble father's there,
    But the last week he died,
He would have stretched his guarding arm,
To shelter thee from every harm,
    Nestle thee to his side.

Thy ruby lip skill'd not
    That father's name to speak,
Yet wouldst thou pause mid infant play
To kiss his pi...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Madam Pond,

Widow of the late CALEB POND, Esq., died at Hartford, February 19th 1861, aged 73.


Would any think who marked the smile
    On yon untroubled face,
That threescore years and ten had fled
    Without a wrinkling trace?

Yet age doth sometimes skill to guard
    The beauty of its prime,
And hold a quenchless lamp above
    The water-floods of time.

And she, for whom we mourn, maintained
    Through every change and care,
Those hallowed virtues of the soul
    That keep the features fair.

They raised a little child to look
    Into the coffin deep,
Who dream'd the lovely lady lay
    But in a transient sleep,

And gazed upon the face of death
    With eye of tranquil ray,
Well pleased, as with the snowy flowers,

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mr. John A. Taintor,

Died at Hartford, on Saturday Evening, November 15th, 1862, aged 62 years.


A sense of loss is on us. One hath gone
    Whose all-pervading energy doth leave
A void and silence 'mid the haunts of men
    And desolation for the hearts that grieve
In his fair mansion, so bereft and lone,
Whence the inspiring smile, and cheering voice have flown.

Those too there are who eloquently speak
    Of his firm friendship, not without a tear,
Of its strong power to undergird the weak
    And hold the faltering feet in duty's sphere,
While in the cells of want, a broken trust
In bitterness laments, that he is of the dust.

In foreign climes, with patriotic eye
    He sought what might his Country's welfare aid,
And the rich flocks of Spain, at his behest

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mr. Samuel Tudor,

Died at Hartford, January 29th, 1862, aged 92.


We saw him on a winter's day,
    Beneath the hallowed dome,
Where for so many years his heart
    Had found its Sabbath-home,
Yet not amid his ancient seat
    Or in the accustomed place
Arose his fair, and reverend brow,
    And form of manly grace.

Then Music, through the organ's soul
    Melodious descant gave,
But yet his voice so rich and sweet
    Swell'd not the sacred stave,
The Christmas wreaths o'er arch and nave
    Were lingering still to cheer
His parting visit to the fane
    Which he had help'd to rear.

And flowers were on the coffin-lid
    And o'er his bosom strown,
Fit offering for the friend who loved
    The plants of every zone,
And bade them i...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Richard Ely Collins,

Son of Mr. MORRIS COLLINS, died at Wethersfield, September 5th, 1862, aged 3 months and 27 days.


It was a sad and lovely sight
    They call'd us to behold,
That infant forehead high and fair,
Those beauteous features sculptured rare,
    Yet breathless all, and cold.

Heard it in dreams, an angel voice
    Soft as the zephyr's tone?
The yearning of a Mother mild
To clasp once more her three months' child
    But a few days her own?

Just a few days of wasting pain
    She linger'd by its side,
And then consign'd to stranger arms
The frail unfolding of the charms
    She would have watch'd with pride.

Yet happy babe! to reach a home
    Beyond all sorrowing cares,
Where none a Mother's loss can moan
Or seek for bread,...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Henry Howard Comstock,

Youngest child of the late Capt. JOHN C. COMSTOCK, died at Hartford, February 11th, 1862, a fortnight after his father, aged 11 months.


It was a fair and mournful sight
    Once at the wintry tide,
When to the dear baptismal rite
Was brought an infant, sweet and bright,
    His father's couch beside,

His dying father's couch beside,
    Whose eye, with tranquil ray,
Beheld upon that beauteous head
The consecrated water shed,
    Then calmly pass'd away.

A little while the lovely babe,
    As if by angels lent,
With soft caress and soothing wile
Invok'd a widow'd mother's smile,
    Then to his father went.

Christ's holy seal upon his brow,
    Christ's sign upon his breast,
He 'scaped from all the cares and woes
Tha...

Lydia Howard Sigourney