Anne Bradstreet

(1612 – 16 September 1672 / Northampton, England)

On My Dear Grand-Child Simon Bradstreet, Who Dyed On 16. Novemb. 1669. Being But A Moneth, And One D - Poem by Anne Bradstreet

No sooner come, but gone, and fal'n asleep,
Acquaintance short, yet parting caus'd us weep,
Three flours, two searcely blown, the last i'th' bud,
Cropt by th'Almighties hand; yet is he good,
With dreadful awe before him let's be mute,
Such was his will, but why, let's not dispute,
With humble hearts and mouths put in the dust,
Let's say he's merciful as well as just.
He will return, and make up all our losses,
And smile again, after our bitter crosses.
Go pretty babe, go rest with Sisters twain
Among the blest in endless joyes remain.


Comments about On My Dear Grand-Child Simon Bradstreet, Who Dyed On 16. Novemb. 1669. Being But A Moneth, And One D by Anne Bradstreet

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Friday, April 2, 2010



[Report Error]