Lydia Huntley Sigourney
Lydia Huntley Sigourney Poems
Ye shall say they all have passed away,
That noble race and brave,
That their light canoes have vanish'd
...
I must not tease my mother,
For she is very kind;
And everything she says to me
I must directly mind;
...
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,
...
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,
...
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?
...
ABOVE them spread a stranger sky
Around, the sterile plain,
The rock-bound coast rose frowning nigh,
Beyond,--the wrathful main:
...
Had I an artist's pencil, I might sketch
Her as she was, in her young matronhood
...
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.
...
The day returns, beloved friend
When in thy Mother's arms
...
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
...
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
...
FOR the first time, a lovely scene
Earth saw, and smiled,--
A gentle form with pallid mien
Bending o'er a newborn child:
...
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
...
I saw her overlaid with many flowers,
Such as the gorgeous summer drapes in snow,
Stainless and fragrant as he ...
...
Peaceful is the rural life, made strong by healthful industry,
Firm in love of the birth-land, and the laws that govern it,
...
Lydia Huntley Sigourney Biography
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)
The Best Poem Of Lydia Huntley Sigourney
Indian Names
Ye shall say they all have passed away,
That noble race and brave,
That their light canoes have vanish'd
From off the crested wave.
That 'mid the forests where they roam'd
There rings no hunter's shout;
But their name is on your waters,
Ye may not wash it out.
'Tis where Ontario's billow
Like Ocean's surge is curled;
Where strong Niagara's thunders wake
The echo of the world;
Where red Missouri bringeth
Rich tributes from the west,
And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps
On green Virginia's breast.
Ye say, their cone-like cabins,
That cluster'd o'er the vale,
Have fled away like wither'd leaves
Before the autumn gale:
But their memory liveth on your hills,
Their baptism on your shore;
Your everlasting rivers speak
Their dialect of yore.
Old Massachusetts wears it
Within her lordly crown,
And broad Ohio bears it
'mid all her young renown;
Connecticut hath wreathed it
Where her quiet foliage waves,
And bold Kentucky breathed it hoarse
Through all her ancient caves.
Wachuset hides its lingering voice
Within its rocky heart,
And Alleghany graves its tone
Throughout his lofty chart:
Monadnock on his forehead hoar
Doth seal the sacred trust;
Your mountains build their monument,
Though ye destroy their dust
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