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

Comments about Anna Laetitia Barbauld

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Anna Laetitia Barbauld

The Caterpillar

No, helpless thing, I cannot harm thee now;
Depart in peace, thy little life is safe,
For I have scanned thy form with curious eye,
Noted the silver line that streaks thy back,
The azure and the orange that divide
Thy velvet sides; thee, houseless wanderer,
My garment has enfolded, and my arm
Felt the light pressure of thy hairy feet;
Thou hast curled round my finger; from its tip,
Precipitous descent! with stretched out neck,
Bending thy head in airy vacancy,
This way and that, inquiring, thou hast seemed
To ask protection; now, I cannot kill thee.

Read the full of The Caterpillar

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,

[Report Error]