Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney
Biography of Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney
Lydia Huntley Sigourney (September 1, 1791 – June 10, 1865), née Lydia Howard Huntley, was a popular American poet during the early and mid 19th century. She was commonly known as the "Sweet Singer of Hartford". Most of her works were published with just her married name Mrs. Sigourney.
This passage outlines her main themes including old age, death, responsibility, religion - a strong belief in God and the Christian faith - and work (Victorian Web). She often wrote elegies or poems for recently deceased neighbors, friends, and acquaintances. Her work is one example of Victorian-era death literature which views death as an escape to a better place, especially for children. A contemporary critic called her work, infused with morals, "more like the dew than the lightning".She enjoyed substantial popularity in her lifetime and earned several nicknames, including "the American Hemans", the "Sweet Singer of Hartford", and the "female Milton". Her influences included the work of Hannah More, William Wordsworth, and William Cowper
Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney's Works:
* Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse (1815)
* Traits of the Aborigines of America (1822), a poem
* A Sketch of Connecticut Forty Years Since (1824)
* Poems (1827)
* Letters to Young Ladies (1833), one of her best-known books
* Sketches (1834)
* Poetry for Children (1834)
* Zinzendorff, and Other Poems (1835)
* Olive Buds (1836)
* Letters to Mothers (1838), republished in London
* Pocahontas, and Other Poems (1841)
* Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands (1842), descriptive of her trip to Europe in 1840
* Scenes in My Native Land (1844)
* Letters to My Pupils (1851)
* Olive Leaves (1851)
* The Faded Hope (1852) in memory of her only son, who died when he was nineteen years old
* Past Meridian (1854)
* The Daily Counsellor (1858), poems
* Gleanings (1860), selections from her verse
* The Man of Uz, and Other Poems (1862)
* Letters of Life (1866), giving an account of her career
Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney Poems
I Must Not Tease My Mother
I must not tease my mother, For she is very kind; And everything she says to me I must directly mind;
Ye shall say they all have passed away, That noble race and brave, That their light canoes have vanish'd
Death Of An Infant
Death found strange beauty on that cherub brow, And dash'd it out. There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip;--he touch'd the veins with ice,
Tree! why hast thou doffed thy mantle of green For the gorgeous grab of an Indian queen? With the timbered brown, and the crimson stain,
When was the redman's summer? When the rose Hung its first banner out? When the gray rock, Or the brown heath, the radiant kalmia clothed?
ST. STEPHEN'S cloistered hall was proud In learning's pomp that day, For there a robed and stately crowd Pressed on in long array.
LADY Flora gave cards for a party at tea, To flowers, buds, and blossoms of every degree; So from town and from country they throng'd at the call,
Madam Hannah Lathrop,
Had I an artist's pencil, I might sketch Her as she was, in her young matronhood
The Indian's Welcome To The Pilgrim Fath...
ABOVE them spread a stranger sky Around, the sterile plain, The rock-bound coast rose frowning nigh, Beyond,--the wrathful main:
FOR the first time, a lovely scene Earth saw, and smiled,-- A gentle form with pallid mien Bending o'er a newborn child:
Miss Catherine Ball,
Bright sunbeam of a father's heart Whose earliest ra ...
Mrs. Joseph Morgan,
I saw her overlaid with many flowers, Such as the gorgeous summer drapes in snow, Stainless and fragrant as he ...
I fain would be thy pupil, mighty Deep! Yet speak thou gently to me, for I fear Thy liquid terror, and I would not learn
The Man Of Uz
A JOYOUS FESTIVAL.-- The gathering back Of scattered flowrets to the household wreath. Brothers and sisters from their sever'd homes
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,