Lydia Howard Sigourney

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,<...

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...

Died at Hartford, December 30th, 1861.


Sorrow and Joy collude. One mansion hears
The children shouting o'er their Christmas Tree,
While in the next resound the widow's wail
And weeping of the fatherless. So walk
Sickness and health. One rounds the cheek at morn,
The other with a ghost-like movement glides
Unto the nightly couch, and lo! the wheels
Of life drive heavily, and all its springs
Revolving in mysterious mechanism
Are troubled.
                    And how slight the instrument
That sometimes sends the strong man to his tomb,
Revealing that the glory of his prime,
Is as the flower of grass.

                    Of this we thought
When looking on the face that lay so calm
And comely in its narrow coffin-bed,
Remembering how th...

Died at Hartford, on Friday morning, January 10th, 1862.


And hath he fallen,--whom late we saw
    In manly vigor bold?
That stately form,--that noble face,
    Shall we no more behold?--
Not now of the renown we speak
    That gathers round his name,
For other climes beside our own
    Bear witness to his fame;

Nor of the high inventive power
    That stretched from zone to zone,
And 'neath the pathless ocean wrought,--
    For these to all are known;--
Nor of the love his liberal soul
    His native City bore,
For she hath monuments of this
    Till memory is no more;

Nor of the self-reliant force
    By which his way he told,
Nor of the Midas-touch that turn'd
    All enterprise to gold,
And made the indignan...

Died at Hartford, May 22d, 1860, aged 87.


One saintly man the less, to teach us how
Wisely to live,--one blest example more
To teach us how to die.
                    Fourscore and seven,
Swept not the beauty of his brow away,
Nor quell'd his voice of music, nor impair'd
The social feeling that through all his life
Ran like a thread of gold.
                    In filial arms
Close wrapp'd with watchful tenderness, he trod
Jordan's cold brink.
                    The world was beautiful,
But Christ's dear love so wrought within his heart
That to depart seem'd better.
                    Many a year
He lent his influence to the church he loved,
For unity and peace, and countless gems
Dropp'd from his lips when the last sickness came,

Professor of Astronomy in Yale College, Conn., died at New Haven, May, 1859.


Spring pour'd fresh beauty o'er the cultured grounds,
And woke to joyance every leaf and flower,
Where erst the Man of Science lov'd to find
Refreshment from his toils.

                    'Twas sweet to see
How Nature met him there, and took away
All weariness of knowledge. Yet he held
Higher communion than with fragrant shrub,
Or taper tree, that o'er the forest tower'd.
His talk was with the stars, as one by one,
Night, in her queenly regency, put forth
Their sprinkled gold upon her sable robe.
He knew their places, and pronounc'd their names,
And by their heavenly conversation sought
Acquaintance with their Maker.
                    Sang they not
Unto his u...

Died at Hartford, August 4th, 1861; and his wife, Mrs. ELIZA STORRS TRUMBULL, the night after his funeral.


Death's shafts fly thick, and love a noble mark.
--And one hath fallen who bore upon his shield
The name and lineage of an honor'd race
Who gave us rulers in those ancient days
Where truth stood first and gain was left behind.

--His was the type of character that makes
Republics strong,--unstain'd fidelity,--
A dignity of mind that mark'd unmov'd
The unsought honors clustering round his path,
And chang'd them into duties. With firm step
On the high places of the earth he walk'd,
Serving his Country, not to share her spoils,
Nor pamper with exciting eloquence
A parasite ambition.
                    With clear eye
And cautious speech, and...

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 g...

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...

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...

Only son of SAMUEL S. FOSS, Esq., died May 23d, 1859, aged three years and three months.


"Read more, Papa," the loving infant cried,--
And meekly bow'd the listening ear, and fix'd
The ardent eye, devouring every word
Of his dear picture book. And then he spread
His arms, and folded thrice the father's neck.
--The mother came from church, and lull'd her boy
To quiet sleep, and laid him in his crib;
And as they watch'd the smile of innocence
That sometimes lightly floated o'er his brow
That Sabbath eve, they to each other said,
"How beautiful."
                    There was another scene,--
The child lay compass'd round with Spring's white flowers,
Yet heav'd no breath to stir their lightest leaf.
And many a one who on that coffin look'd
And ...

Died at Hartford, July 8th, 1862, aged 68.


It is not meet the good and just
    Oblivious pass away,
And leave no record for their race,
Except a dim and fading trace,
    The memory of a day.

We need the annal of their course,
    Their pattern for a guide,--
Their armor that temptation quell'd,--
The beacon-light that forth they held
    O'er Time's delusive tide.

Within the House of God I sate
    At Summer's morning ray,--
And sadly mark'd a vacant seat
Where erst in storm, or cold or heat
    While lustrums held their way,

Was ever seen with reverent air
    Intent on hallow'd lore,
A forehead edg'd with silver hair,
A manly form bow'd low in prayer,--
    They greet our eyes no more.

And where ...

Late Chief Justice of Connecticut, died at Hartford, on Sunday morning, December 15th, 1861, aged 84.


                    'Tis not for pen and ink,
Or the weak measures of the muse, to give
Fit transcript of his virtues who hath risen
Up from our midst this day.

                    And yet 'twere sad
If such example were allow'd to fleet
Without abiding trace for those behind.
To stand on earth's high places, in the garb
Of Christian meekness, yet to comprehend
And track the tortuous policies of guile
With upright aim, and heart immaculate,
To pass just sentence on the wiles of fraud,
And deeds of wickedness, yet freshly keep
The fountain of good-will to all mankind,
To mark for more than fourscore years, a line
Of light without a mist, are v...

Died in Norwich, Connecticut, January 18th, 1862, aged 92.


Had I an artist's pencil, I might sketch
Her as she was, in her young matronhood
Graceful and dignified, serene and fair.

--I well remember, when at Sabbath-morn,
With pious zeal, the rural church she sought,
Our rural church,--by rocks o'er-canopied,--
Where with her stately husband and their group
Of younglings bright, each in the accustom'd seat,
How many a glance was toward her beauty bent
Admiringly.
                    In those primeval days
The aristocracy that won respect,
Sprang not from wealth alone, but laid its base
In goodness and in virtue. Thus she held
Her healthful influence in society
Without gainsaying voice.
                    The polity
Of woman's realm...

Widow of the late ANSON G. PHELPS, Esq., died at New York, April 24th, 1859, aged 74.


When the good mother dieth, and the home
So long made happy by her boundless love
Is desolate and empty, there are tears
Of filial anguish, not to be represt;
And when the many friends who at her side
Sought social sympathy and counsel sweet,
Or the sad poor, who, for their Saviour's sake,
Found bountiful relief, and kind regard,
Stand at that altered threshold, and perceive
Faces of strangers from her casement look,
There is a pang not to be told in words.

Yet, when the christian, having well discharged
A life-long duty, riseth where no sin
Or possibility of pain or death
May follow, should there not be praise to Him
Who gives such victory?
    ...

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,

Widow of the late SPENCER WHITING, Esq., died at Hartford, April, 1859, aged 88.


Life's work well done, how beautiful to rest.
Aye, lift your little ones to see her face,
So calmly smiling in its coffin-bed!
There is no wrinkle there,--no rigid gloom
To make them turn their tender glance away;
And when they say their simple prayer at night
With folded hands,--instruct their innocent lips
Meekly to say: "Our Father! may we live,
And die like her."
                    Her more than fourscore years
Chill'd not in her the genial flow of thought
Or energy of deed. The earnest power
To advance home-happiness, the kindly warmth
Of social intercourse, the sweet response
Of filial love, rejoicing in her joy,
And reverencing her saintly piety,
Were with...

Widow of the late EZEKIEL WILLIAMS, Esq., and Daughter of Chief Justice Oliver Ellsworth, died at Hartford, February 28th, 1860, aged 87.


She was a link that bound us to the past,--
To the great days of Washington, when men
Loving their country better than themselves
Show'd to the world what patriot virtue meant.
She on the knee of her majestic sire
Drew to her listening heart when life was new
Those principles that made his honored name
Synonymous with wisdom, and the might
Of holy truth.

                    So when in woman's sphere
She took her post of duty, still in all
The delicate proprieties of life,
The inner sanctities of household weal,
In social elegance, and in the deeds
That christian pity to the poor extends,
She was our model; ...