In Memoriam. - Harriet Allen Ely,

Died at Providence, Rhode Island, April 27th, 1862, aged 7 years and 2 months.


Seven blest years our darling daughter,
    We have held thee to our hearts,
Every season growing dearer;
We have held thee near and nearer,
    Never dreaming thus to part.

Seven brief years--our only daughter--
    Sweet has been the parent rule,
Infant watch by cradle nightly,
'Till we saw thy footsteps lightly
    Tripping joyously to school.

Germ of promise,--bud of beauty,
    To our tenderest nurture given,
Not for our too dim beholding
Was thy fair and full unfolding;
    That perfection is in Heaven.

Earth no license had to harm thee,
    Time no power to touch thy bloom,
Holy is our faith to meet thee,
Glorious is our trust to greet thee
    Far beyond the conquering tomb.

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. - Miss. Emily B. Parish,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Mrs. Frederick Tyler,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Hon. Thomas S. Williams,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Madam Olivia Phelps,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

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. - Annie Seymour Robinson,

Daughter of LUCIUS F. ROBINSON and Mrs. ELIZA S. ROBINSON, died at Hartford, Wednesday, April 10th, 1861, aged 6 years and 2 months.


Dids't hear him call, my beautiful?--
    The Sire, so fond and dear
Who ere the last moon's waning ray,
Pass'd in his prime of days away,
    And hath not left his peer?

Say, beckoning from yon silver cloud
    Though none beside might see,
A hand that erst with love and pride
Its little daughter's steps would guide--
    Stretch'd out that hand for thee?

The wreathing buds of snowy rose
    That o'er thy bosom lay,
Were symbols in their beauty pale,
Of thy young life so sweet and frail,
    And all unstain'd as they.

Oh stricken hearts!--bear up,--bear on,--
    Think of your Saviour's grace,<...

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. - Mrs. Harvey Seymour,

Died at Hartford, Sunday, May 5th, 1861.


She found a painless avenue to make
The great transition from a world of care
To one of rest.
                    It was the Sabbath day,
And beautiful with smile of vernal sun
And the up-springing fragrance from the earth,
With all that soothing quietude which links
The consecrated season unto Him
Who bade the creatures He had made, revere
And keep it holy.
                    From her fair abode,
Lovely with early flowers, she took her way
The second time, unto the House of God,
And side by side with her life's chosen friend
Walk'd cheerfully. Within those hallow'd courts,
Where holds the soul communion with its God,
She listening sate.
                    But then she lean'd her head
Upon h...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mrs. Elizabeth Harris,

Died at Hartford, Sunday evening, September 9th, 1860, aged 80.


Oh sorrowing Daughter, left alone
    In home's deserted sphere,
Where every object group'd around,
In pleasant room, or garden's bound
Is twined by links of sight or sound
    With the lost Mother dear;

Yet take sweet thoughts thy grief to soothe
    Of what she was below,
Her years to faithful duty given,
Her comfort in the Book of Heaven,
Her ready trust when life was riven,
    To Christ, her Lord, to go.

And take sweet memories of the care
    That smoothed her couch of pain,
The grateful love that o'er her way
Kept tender vigil, night and day,
And let its pure, reflected ray
    Thy drooping heart sustain.

So shall thy faith the pang assuage
...

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