by Ann Plato
Deep in this grave her bones remain,
She’s sleeping on, bereft of pain,
Her tongue in silence now does sleep,
And she no more time’s call can greet. Continue reading Reflections, Written on Visiting the Grave of a Venerated Friend
by Ann Plato
Britannia’s isles proclaim,
That freedom is their theme;
And we do view those honor’d lands,
With soul-delighting mien. Continue reading To the First of August.
by Ann Plato
When in the morning’s misty hour,
When the sun beems gently o’er each flower;
When thou dost cease to smile benign,
And think each heart responds with thine,
When seeking rest among divine,
Forget me not. Continue reading Forget Me Not.
by Ann Plato
Teach me, O! Lord, the secret errors of my way,
Teach me the paths wherein I go astray,
Learn me the way to teach the word of love,
For that’s the pure intelligence above.
As well as learning, give me that truth forever–
Which a mere worldly tie can never sever,
For though our bodies die, our souls will live forever. Continue reading Lines, Written Upon Being Examined In School Studies for the Preparation of a Teacher.
by Ann Plato
Day after day I sit and write,
And thus the moments spend–
The thought that occupies my mind,–
Compose to please my friend. Continue reading Advice to Young Ladies
by Ann Plato
Tell me a story, father please,
And then I sat upon his knees.
Then answer’d he,—“what speech make known,
Or tell the words of native tone,
Of how my Indian fathers dwelt,
And, of sore oppression felt;
And how they mourned a land serene,
It was an ever mournful theme.” Continue reading The Natives of America
by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Are you content, you pretty three-years’ wife?
Are you content and satisfied to live
On what your loving husband loves to give,
And give to him your life? Continue reading To The Young Wife
Sigourney wrote several poems in homage to the famous Connecticut tree known as the Charter Oak. This poem was written in the period of state-wide grief when the tree was struck by lightening and fell on August 21, 1856. Hartford even organized a funeral procession for the tree that drew crowds of mourners. The wood from the tree was harvested and turned into keepsakes that can still be viewed at places like the CT Museum of Culture and History and the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art. Charles De Wolf Brownell’s painting of 1857 is often on view at the Wadsworth, a spectacular homage to the tree whose frame is made from the Charter Oak’s wood. Read what Mark Twain had to say about the Charter Oak on his first visit to Hartford and to the Wadsworth in this anthology (see “Glimpse of Hartford” under Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain.) To learn what made this such an iconic tree and to see an image of Brownell’s painting, go to The Legend of the Charter Oak on Connecticuthistory.org. Continue reading Fall of the Charter Oak
An armorer is a manufacturer of firearms. There is no real “St. Armorer.” Stevens got the idea for him from the Church of the Good Shepherd on Wyllys Street in Hartford. This church was built to honor Samuel Colt, the wealthy manufacturer of firearms—most famously the Colt pistol—who lived in Hartford. It is now part of Coltsville National Historical Park. The most striking aspect of this church is the Armorer’s Porch which features Colt pistols and other gun parts carved into its façade (see photos below). Continue reading St. Armorer’s Church from the Outside
This poem describes a simple arrangement of pink and white carnations in a white bowl. Perhaps this image was based on an actual centerpiece that Stevens’s wife, Elsie, had placed on their dining room table. As the poet contemplates this centerpiece, his attention focuses on its striking simplicity. Continue reading The Poems of Our Climate