Who is Helen Hoyt

Helen Lyman commonly known as Helen Hoyt or Helen Hoyt Lyman (January 22, 1887 – August 2, 1972)

was an American poet.

Biography

She was born as Helen Hoyt in Norwalk, Connecticut on January 22, 1887, to Gould and Georgiana (Baird) Hoyt.Helen Hoyt attended Miss Baird's School for Girls in Norwalk, Connecticut, which was owned by her aunt, Cornelia F. Baird. She later was educated at Barnard College, where she received an A. B. in 1909.In 1921, she married fellow poet William Whittingham Lyman Jr, and so also became known either as Mrs. W.W. Lyman or Helen Hoyt Lyman.Early in her career, Hoyt was an Associate Editor of the journal Poetry, and also had numerous articles and poems published within the magazine from 1913 to 1936. She also edited the Septembe...
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Helen Hoyt Poems

  • Ellis Park
    Little park that I pass through,
    I carry off a piece of you
    Every morning hurrying down
    To my work-day in the town;...
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Top 10 most used topics by Helen Hoyt

Grass 1 Treasure 1 Street 1 Country 1 Hear 1 Town 1 Room 1 Place 1 Shade 1 Wait 1


Helen Hoyt Quotes

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Comments about Helen Hoyt

Rajoyceucb: —helen hoyt, “a woman and mountains”
Marjelaine: lahiri, jhumpa. interpreter of maladies. lahiri, jhumpa. the namesake. mengestu, dinaw. how to read the air. mengestu, dinaw. the beautiful things that heaven bears. nazario, sandra. enrique’s journey. otsjika, julie. the buddha in the attic. ponce, mary helen. hoyt street
Joyoftrivia: on this day in 1969 stan coveleski and waite hoyt are voted into the baseball hof on this day in 1964 g i joe premieres as a popular toy on this day in 1963 the beatles went on tour 8th on the bill headed up by the 16 year old singer helen shapiro
Nathanfrancis__: poems:
Streetsofc: can a poem say my heart while i stand still apart? i myself would be the song, i myself would be the rhyme, moving delicately along; and my steps would make the time, and the stanzas be my rest. - helen hoyt, ‘poem to be danced.’ photo: chicago cultural center. december 2022
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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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