Anne Bradstreet Poems
|44.||As Weary Pilgrim, Now At Rest||4/2/2010|
|46.||A Love Letter To Her Husband||12/31/2002|
|47.||To My Dear Children.||4/2/2010|
|48.||To Her Father With Some Verses||5/10/2001|
|49.||Here Follows Some Verses Upon The Burning Of Our House||1/3/2003|
|50.||The Vanity Of All Worldly Things||1/3/2003|
|51.||Before The Birth Of One Of Her Children||5/10/2001|
|52.||Verses Upon The Burning Of Our House, July 18th, 1666||5/10/2001|
|53.||A Letter To Her Husband||12/31/2002|
|54.||Author To Her Book, The||12/31/2002|
|55.||By Night When Others Soundly Slept||5/10/2001|
|56.||Flesh And The Spirit, The||12/31/2002|
|58.||Of The Four Ages Of Man||12/31/2002|
|59.||In Reference To Her Children||5/10/2001|
|60.||The Flesh And The Spirit||5/10/2001|
|61.||We May Live Together||12/31/2002|
|62.||To My Dear And Loving Husband||5/10/2001|
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.
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,