In Memoriam. - Mary Shipman Deming,

Died at Hartford, Nov. 11th, 1839, aged 4 years and 6 months.


The garner'd Jewel of our heart,
    The Darling of our tent!
Cold rains were falling thick and fast,
    When forth from us she went.

The sweetest blossom on our tree,
    When droop'd her fairy head,
We might not lay her 'mid the flowers,
    For all the flowers were dead.

The youngest birdling of our nest,
    Her song from us hath fled;
Yet mingles with a purer strain
    That floats above our head.

We gaze,--her wings we may not see:
    We listen,--all in vain:
But when this wintry life is o'er,
    We'll hear her voice again.

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. - Colonel H. L. Miller,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Mrs. Helen Tyler Beach,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Rev. Henry Albertson Post,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Miss Margaret C. Brown,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

English

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In Memoriam. - Mrs. Mary Mildenstein Robertson,

Wife of Rev. WILLIAM H. C. ROBERTSON, died at Magnolia, East Florida, January 13th, aged 34.


Our buds have faded,--winter's frigid breath
    Sigh'd o'er their bosoms, and they fell away,
So in these household bowers the ice of death
    Bids rose and lily ere their prime decay,
And see a Passion-Flower from tropic skies
Beneath our drifted snows, not without requiem lies.

A brilliant daughter of the Cuban vales
    Of generous mind, impulsive, strong and high
Twined the home-tendril where our northern gales
    Sweep grove and forest with their minstrelsy,
Labor'd for classic lore with studious part,
And planted friendship's germ in many an answering heart.

Her filial piety intensely warm
    Whose gushing tenderness no limit knew,
Clasp'd ...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mrs. Margaret Walbridge,

Died at Saratoga, N.Y., June 2d, 1862, aged 35.

WRITTEN ON HER BIRTH-DAY.


This was her birth-day here,
    When summer's latest flowers
Were kindling to their flush and prime,
As if they felt how short the time
    In these terrestrial bowers.

She hath a birth-day now
    No hastening night that knows,
She hath a never-ending year
Which feels no blight of autumn sere,
    Nor chill of wintry snows.

She hath no pain or fear,
    But by her Saviour's side
Expansion finds for every power;
And knowledge her angelic dower
    An ever-flowing tide.

They sorrow, who were called
    From her sweet smile to part,
Who wore her love-links fondly twined
Like woven threads of gold refined
    Around their inmost ...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Samuel G. Ogden, Esq.,

Died at Astoria, New York, April 5th, 1860.


Upon his suffering couch he lay,
    Whose noble form and mind
The stress of fourscore years had tried,
    Yet left a charm behind.
The charm of heaven-born happiness
    Whose beauty may not fade,
The charm of unimpair'd regard
    For all whom God had made.

Upon his suffering couch he lay,
    While sadly gathering there,
Were loved and loving ones, who made
    That honored life their care;
And 'mid the group, a daughter's voice
    Of wondrous sweetness read
Brief portions from the Book Divine,
    As his dictation led.

"Bow down thine ear, Most Merciful,
    Oh, hearken while I speak,
Now in my time of utmost need,
    To Thee alone I seek.
Shew me some token, Lo...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Miss Jane Penelope Whiting,

Died at Portland, Connecticut, January 1st, 1861.


I think of her unfolding prime,
    Her childhood bright and fair,
The speaking eye, the earnest smile,
    The dark and lustrous hair,

The fondness by a Mother's side
    To cling with docile mind,
Fast in the only sister's hand
    Her own forever twined,

The candor of her trustful youth,
    The heart that freshly wove
Sweet garlands even from thorn-clad bowers,
    Because it dwelt in love,

The stainless life, whose truth and grace
    Made each beholder see
The gladness of a spirit tuned
    To heavenly harmony.

But when this fair New-Year looked forth
    Over the old one's grave,
While bridal pleasures neath her roof
    Their bright infusion gave,<...

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. - Miss Anna M. Seymour,

Died at Hartford, August 24th, 1860.


The beauteous brow, the form of grace,
    With all their youthful charms,
The hand that woke the pencil's power,
And bore to penury's lowly bower,
    The never-wearied alms,

The sweet, sweet voice that duly cheer'd
    A grateful Sabbath train,
The uprais'd eye that taught them more
Of Heaven, than all their student lore,
    Must ne'er return again.

She took her flight as from the cage
    Enfranchised warblers glide,
Though friends were dear, and life was fair,
She saw her Saviour standing there,
    Beyond rough Jordan's tide.

Praise, praise to Him, whose faithful hand
    Prepared her glorious place,
For us is loss,--for her release,
The robe of rest, the home of peace,--

Lydia Howard Sigourney