Anna Laetitia Barbauld

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

Anna Laetitia Barbauld Poems

81. To Mr. S. T. Coleridge 9/6/2010
82. To Mrs. A. 9/6/2010
83. To Mrs. Marissal 9/6/2010
84. To Mrs. P********, With Some Drawings Of Birds And Insects. 9/6/2010
85. To The Baron Destonne 9/6/2010
86. To The Baron Destonne, 9/6/2010
87. To The Miss Websters 9/6/2010
88. To The Poor 9/6/2010
89. To Wisdom 9/6/2010
90. Tomorrow 9/6/2010
91. Tormenting Cares 9/6/2010
92. Verses On Mrs Rowe 9/6/2010
93. Verses Written In An Alcove 9/6/2010
94. Washing-Day 9/6/2010
95. West End Fair 9/6/2010
96. What Do The Futures Speak Of? 9/6/2010
97. Where A Crowd Of Pilgrims Toil 9/6/2010
98. Written On A Marble 9/6/2010
Best Poem of Anna Laetitia Barbauld

A Summer Evening's Meditation

'TIS past! The sultry tyrant of the south
Has spent his short-liv'd rage; more grateful hours
Move silent on; the skies no more repel
The dazzled sight, but with mild maiden beams
Of temper'd light, invite the cherish'd eye
To wander o'er their sphere; where hung aloft
DIAN's bright crescent, like a silver bow
New strung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns

Impatient for the night, and seems to push
Her brother down the sky. Fair VENUS shines
Even in the eye of day; with sweetest beam
Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood
Of soften'd radiance...

Read the full of A Summer Evening's Meditation

Autumn

A FRAGMENT

Farewell the softer hours, Spring's opening blush
And Summer's deeper glow, the shepherd's pipe
Tuned to the murmurs of a weeping spring,
And song of birds, and gay enameled fields,—
Farewell! 'T is now the sickness of the year,
Not to be medicined by the skillful hand.
Pale suns arise that like weak kings behold

[Hata Bildir]