The Man of Uz, and Other Poems — Themes and Context

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In Category - Fantasy Juvenile Worlds

Authors: Sigourney, L. H. (Lydia Howard), 1791-1865 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2007 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Poetry Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 41,309

Reading time 180 min

Text sections 7

The Man of Uz, and Other Poems — Themes and Context can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 41,309 words, 3 hr estimated reading time, and 7 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 22.4 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Poetry,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #20504

This 1862 collection opens with a verse retelling of Job's story, then shifts to a long poem on rural New England life and a series of memorial poems for recently deceased individuals, mostly from Connecticut. The excerpts reveal Sigourney's domestic piety, her use of natural imagery, and her focus on virtuous death.

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Eyes was he to the blind, and to the lame Feet, while the stranger and the traveller found Beneath, the welcome shelter of his roof The blessed boon of hospitality.

To him the fatherless and widow sought For aid and counsel. Fearlessly he rose For those who had no helper. His just mind Brought stifled truth to light, disarm'd the wiles Of power, and gave deliverance to the weak. He pluck'd the victim from the oppressor's grasp, And made the tyrant tremble. To his words Men listened, as to lore oracular, And when beside the gate he took his seat The young kept silence, and the old rose up To do him honor. After his decree None spake again, for as a prince he dwelt Wearing the diadem of righteousness, And robed in that respect which greatness wins When leagued with goodness, and by wisdom crown'd. The grateful prayers and blessings of the souls Ready to perish, silently distill'd Upon him, as he slept. So as a tree Whose root is by the river's brink, he grew And flourish'd, while the dews like balm-drops hung All night upon his branches. Yet let none Of woman born, presume to build his hopes On the worn cliff of brief prosperity, Or from the present promise, predicate The future joy. The exulting bird that sings Mid the green curtains of its leafy nest His tuneful trust untroubled there to live, And there to die, may meet the archer's shaft When next it spreads the wing. The tempest folds O'er the smooth forehead of the summer noon Its undiscover'd purpose, to emerge Resistless from its armory, and whelm In floods of ruin, ere the day decline.

Lightning and sword! Swift messengers, and sharp, Reapers that leave no gleanings. In their path Silence and desolation fiercely stalk. --O'er trampled hills, and on the blood-stain'd plains There is no low of kine, or bleat of flocks, The fields are rifled, and the shepherds slain.

The Man of Uz, who stood but yestermorn Above all compeers,--clothed with wealth and power, To day is poorer than his humblest hind. A whirlwind from the desert! All unwarn'd Its fury came. Earth like a vassal shook. Majestic trees flew hurtling through the air Like rootless reeds. There was no time for flight. Buried in household wrecks, all helpless lay Masses of quivering life. Job's eldest son That day held banquet for their numerous line At his own house. With revelry and song, One moment in the glow of kindred hearts The lordly mansion rang, the next they lay Crush'd neath its ruins. _He_,--the childless sire, Last of his race, and lonely as the pine That crisps and blackens 'neath the lightning shaft Upon the cliff, with such a rushing tide The mountain billows of his misery came, Drove they not Reason from her beacon-hold? Swept they not his strong trust in Heaven away?

List,--list,--the sufferer speaks. "The Lord who gave Hath taken away,--and blessed be His name."

Oh Patriarch!--teach us, mid this changeful life Not to mistake the ownership of joys Entrusted to us for a little while, But when the Great Dispenser shall reclaim His loans, to render them with praises back, As best befits the indebted. Should a tear Moisten the offering, He who knows our frame And well remembereth that we are but dust, Is full of pity. It was said of old Time conquer'd Grief. But unto me it seems That Grief overmastereth Time. It shows how wide The chasm between us, and our smitten joys And saps the strength wherewith at first we went Into life's battle. We perchance, have dream'd That the sweet smile the sunbeam of our home The prattle of the babe the Spoiler seiz'd, Had but gone from us for a little while,-- And listen'd in our fallacy of hope At hush of eve for the returning step That wake the inmost pulses of the heart To extasy,--till iron-handed Grief Press'd down the _nevermore_ into our soul, Deadening us with its weight. The man of Uz As the slow lapse of days and nights reveal'd The desolation of his poverty Felt every nerve that at the first great shock Was paralyzed, grow sensitive and shrink As from a fresh-cut wound. There was no son To come in beauty of his manly prime With words of counsel and with vigorous hand To aid him in his need, no daughter's arm To twine around him in his weariness, Nor kiss of grandchild at the even-tide Going to rest, with prayer upon its lips.

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The volume's title poem, The Man of Uz, is not a direct translation or paraphrase of the Book of Job but a series of metrical imitations of isolated passages, as Sigourney states in her preface. The excerpts show a domestic framing: Job's story is introduced through a festival scene of family reunion, with 'brothers and sisters from their sever'd homes' gathering to renew childhood bonds. This emphasis on household affection recurs throughout the collection, even in the memorial poems that follow.

From Patriarch to New England Homestead

The catalog subject lists only 'Poetry,' but the excerpts reveal a distinct progression. After the biblical title poem, the collection moves to The Rural Life in New England, a three-canto work that occupies nearly half the book. The excerpt from this section describes a young woman, Leonore, who finds joy in gardening—'She loved to plant the seed and watch the germ, / And nurse the tender leaflet like a babe'—and in winter evenings spent reading the Bible and singing hymns with an older friend. Sigourney explicitly connects this domestic piety to the earlier biblical narrative: the rural life is presented as a modern, New World counterpart to the patriarchal age.

Memorial Poems as a Record of Community

The final and largest section is a series of 'In Memoriam' poems dated 1859–1862, each named for a specific individual. The excerpts include names like 'Rev. Dr. T. M. Cooley,' 'Madam Olivia Phelps,' and 'Col. Samuel Colt.' These are not generic elegies but personalized tributes to local figures—clergymen, widows, children, and civic leaders. Sigourney often notes the cause or circumstances of death, as in 'The Little Brothers' or 'Henry Howard Comstock.' The poems function as a kind of verse obituary, preserving the memory of a close-knit Connecticut community during the Civil War years.

Meter, Diction, and the Poet's Voice

Sigourney writes in blank verse throughout the excerpts, with occasional rhymed passages. Her diction is formal but not archaic, favoring words like 'glebe,' 'orison,' and 'almoner.' She frequently uses nature imagery to convey spiritual lessons: the crocus through snow, the violet in shade, the lily 'like Moses in his ark.' The poems often address the reader directly, as in the plea to 'ye whose homes are childless' to adopt an orphan. This rhetorical stance—part preacher, part neighbor—gives the collection a consistent, intimate tone that aligns with its domestic subject matter.

Readers approaching this collection should note that it is not a single narrative but a triptych: a biblical paraphrase, a long descriptive poem, and a series of memorials. The catalog subject 'Poetry' understates the work's documentary value as a record of mid-19th-century New England social and religious life. Sigourney's voice is consistent throughout—pious, observant, and rooted in the particulars of her time and place.

I keep thinking about how Sigourney turns loss into something almost tender, like grief is just a quieter way of paying attention. That same gentle heaviness follows you through The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2 — Story, Setting & Ideas, though his wit wears it differently. Both linger because they let sadness sit beside you, unhurried, until it feels less like a weight and more like company.