Anne Bradstreet

(1612 – 16 September 1672 / Northampton, England)

Comments about Anne Bradstreet

  • bih no (11/5/2018 5:19:00 PM)

    I can't take these comments. I'm dying

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Yote Nibba (9/28/2018 10:32:00 AM)

    RT if you wanna touch by bUssy

  • bob lowery (9/20/2018 8:50:00 AM)

    lick and take names

  • leroy (9/20/2018 8:15:00 AM)

    Thicc nibbas and anime tiddeys

  • Danny Devito (5/14/2018 12:40:00 PM)

    What comes up must come down.(twin towers 9/11)

  • Big boy (4/24/2018 1:59:00 PM)

    I sometimes lick my own cum

  • Night stick (4/20/2018 12:33:00 PM)

    Get the night sticks we got a fighter over here.

  • Adolf Hitler support (4/18/2018 12:35:00 PM)

    I beat my son with my lash. He then hit me with the slave beater 9000. I hit him with a cane and he told me to suck his

  • KKK group (4/18/2018 12:33:00 PM)

    I Adolf Hitler and the nazis support the kkk and the white power movement.

  • Stonewall Jackson (4/18/2018 12:00:00 PM)

    I beat my slaves like a stonewall in Jacksonville. The slaves tell me to stop but since I'm a stone wall I can't stop.

Best Poem of Anne Bradstreet

To My Dear And Loving Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

Read the full of To My Dear And Loving Husband

A Letter To Her Husband

Absent upon Public Employment

My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay more,
My joy, my magazine, of earthly store,
If two be one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie?
So many steps, head from the heart to sever,
If but a neck, soon should we be together.
I, like the Earth this season, mourn in black,

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