Anne Bradstreet

(1612 – 16 September 1672 / Northampton, England)

Comments about Anne Bradstreet

  • Ulysses S Grant (4/17/2018 12:49:00 PM)

    Aiiiiii LIIIIKKKKLLEEEEE BIIIGGG ROBERT E LEE

    3 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
  • PORNHUB (4/17/2018 12:39:00 PM)

    I HAVE AUTISM THHSJ MY DOWN SYNDROME FRIENDS AN DNI LAOKE TTO SOOUUCK DIIICK AND LIKEE CUMMM

  • ANGRY SLAVE MASTER (part of the kkk) (4/17/2018 12:38:00 PM)

    HELP ME FIND MY RUN AWAY SLAVE. HE IS BLACK AND FAT. WE THE KKK SUPPORT GOD AND WHITE POWER. HELP US BRING BLACK LIVES TO THE END.

  • KU Klux Klan (4/17/2018 12:36:00 PM)

    WE HATE BLACKS, WE WEAR WHITE BLANKETS AND HOODS. WE LOVE WHIPPING BLACKS. LETS TAKE THEM BACK TO AFRICA

  • Hillary Clinton (4/17/2018 12:36:00 PM)

    I suck D I C K

  • GRAND DRAGON OF THE KU KLUX KLAN (4/17/2018 12:29:00 PM)

    HELLO EVERBODY WELCOME TO THE ZOO

  • GRAND DRAGON (4/17/2018 12:25:00 PM)

    KKK FOREVER

  • Slave Master KKK (4/17/2018 12:25:00 PM)

    White power. Go back to Africa you stupid blacks

  • Adlof Hitler (4/17/2018 12:23:00 PM)

    Go back to africa

  • Joseph Stalin (4/17/2018 12:21:00 PM)

    I Eat A S s

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

The Author To Her Book

Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth did'st by my side remain,
Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad expos'd to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call.
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,

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