Anna Laetitia Barbauld

(20 June 1743 – 9 March 1825 / Leicestershire, England)

Anna Laetitia Barbauld Poems

1. Octogenery Reflections 9/6/2010
2. To Miss R.: On Her Attendance On Her Mother At Buxton 9/6/2010
3. To Mr. Bowring 9/6/2010
4. To Mrs. Marissal 9/6/2010
5. To The Baron Destonne 9/6/2010
6. Verses On Mrs Rowe 9/6/2010
7. On The King's Illness 9/6/2010
8. Pastoral Hymn 9/6/2010
9. Peace And Shepherd 9/6/2010
10. Praise To God 9/6/2010
11. In The Manner Of Spenser 9/6/2010
12. To The Baron Destonne, 9/6/2010
13. To Mrs. A. 9/6/2010
14. To Miss F. B.: On Her Asking For Mrs. B's Love And Time 9/6/2010
15. To Mr. Barbauld 9/6/2010
16. Where A Crowd Of Pilgrims Toil 9/6/2010
17. Prologue To A Drama 9/6/2010
18. Ovid To His Wife 9/6/2010
19. Ode To Remorse 9/6/2010
20. Songs 9/6/2010
21. On The Backwardness Of The Spring 1771 9/6/2010
22. West End Fair 9/6/2010
23. To Mrs. P********, With Some Drawings Of Birds And Insects. 9/6/2010
24. To The Miss Websters 9/6/2010
25. Tormenting Cares 9/6/2010
26. On The Death Of Mrs. Martineau, Senr. 9/6/2010
27. The Wake Of The King Of Spain 9/6/2010
28. Hymn To Content 9/6/2010
29. Written On A Marble 9/6/2010
30. On A Portrait 9/6/2010
31. Logogriph 9/6/2010
32. The Epiphany 9/6/2010
33. How Blest The Righteous When He Dies! 9/6/2010
34. Jehovah Reigns 9/6/2010
35. Verses Written In An Alcove 9/6/2010
36. What Do The Futures Speak Of? 9/6/2010
37. Lines 9/6/2010
38. The Origin Of Song Writing 9/6/2010
39. To Love And Time 9/6/2010
40. To Miss T. 9/6/2010
Best Poem of Anna Laetitia Barbauld

Epistle To William Wilberforce, Esq.


Cease, Wilberforce, to urge thy generous aim!
Thy Country knows the sin, and stands the shame!
The Preacher, Poet, Senator in vain
Has rattled in her sight the Negro's chain;
With his deep groans assailed her startled ear,
And rent the veil that hid his constant tear;
Forced her averted eyes his stripes to scan,
Beneath the bloody scourge laid bare the man,
Claimed Pity's tear, urged Conscience' strong controul,
And flashed conviction on her shrinking soul.
The Muse too, soon awaked, with ...

Read the full of Epistle To William Wilberforce, Esq.

A Thought On Death

When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And Youth prepares his joys to meet,-
Alas! how hard it is to die!
When just is seized some valued prize,
And duties press, and tender ties
Forbid the soul from earth to rise,-
How awful then it is to die!
When, one by one, those ties are torn,

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