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Best Famous Anne Bradstreet Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Anne Bradstreet poems. This is a select list of the best famous Anne Bradstreet poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Anne Bradstreet poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Anne Bradstreet poems.

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by Anne Bradstreet | |

Another

 HERE a pretty baby lies 
Sung asleep with lullabies: 
Pray be silent and not stir 
Th' easy earth that covers her.


by 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.


by Anne Bradstreet | |

Upon Some Distemper of Body

 In anguish of my heart replete with woes, 
And wasting pains, which best my body knows, 
In tossing slumbers on my wakeful bed, 
Bedrenched with tears that flowed from mournful head, 
Till nature had exhausted all her store, 
Then eyes lay dry, disabled to weep more; 
And looking up unto his throne on high, 
Who sendeth help to those in misery; 
He chased away those clouds and let me see 
My anchor cast i' th' vale with safety.
He eased my soul of woe, my flesh of pain, and brought me to the shore from troubled main.


by 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.


by Anne Bradstreet | |

By Night when Others Soundly Slept

 .
By night when others soundly slept And hath at once both ease and Rest, My waking eyes were open kept And so to lie I found it best.
.
I sought him whom my Soul did Love, With tears I sought him earnestly.
He bow'd his ear down from Above.
In vain I did not seek or cry.
.
My hungry Soul he fill'd with Good; He in his Bottle put my tears, My smarting wounds washt in his blood, And banisht thence my Doubts and fears.
.
What to my Saviour shall I give Who freely hath done this for me? I'll serve him here whilst I shall live And Loue him to Eternity


by Anne Bradstreet | |

We May Live Together

 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.


by Anne Bradstreet | |

Here Follow Several Occasional Meditations

 By night when others soundly slept, 
And had at once both case and rest, 
My waking eyes were open kept 
And so to lie I found it best.
I sought Him whom my soul did love, With tears I sought Him earnestly; He bowed His ear down from above.
In vain I did not seek or cry.
My hungry soul He filled with good, He in His bottle put my tears, My smarting wounds washed in His blood, And banished thence my doubts and fears.
What to my Savior shall I give, Who freely hath done this for me? I'll serve Him here whilst I shall live And love Him to eternity.


by Anne Bradstreet | |

In Thankful Remembrance for My Dear Husbands Safe Arrival

 What shall I render to Thy name 
Or how Thy praises speak? 
My thanks how shall I testify? 
O Lord, Thou know'st I'm weak.
I owe so much, so little can Return unto Thy name, Confusion seizes on my soul, And I am filled with shame.
O Thou that hearest prayers, Lord, To Thee shall come all flesh Thou hast me heard and answered, My plaints have had access.
What did I ask for but Thou gav'st? What could I more desire? But thankfulness even all my days I humbly this require.
Thy mercies, Lord, have been so great In number numberless, Impossible for to recount Or any way express.
O help Thy saints that sought Thy face T' return unto Thee praise And walk before Thee as they ought, In strict and upright ways.


by Anne Bradstreet | |

Epitaphs

 Her Mother's Epitaph

Here lies
A worthy matron of unspotted life,
A loving mother and obedient wife,
A friendly neighbor, pitiful to poor,
Whom oft she fed, and clothed with her store;
To servants wisely aweful, but yet kind,
And as they did, so they reward did find:
A true instructor of her family,
The which she ordered with dexterity,
The public meetings ever did frequent,
And in her closest constant hours she spent;
Religious in all her words and ways,
Preparing still for death, till end of days:
Of all her children, children lived to see,
Then dying, left a blessed memory.
Her Father's Epitaph Within this tomb a patriot lies That was both pious, just and wise, To truth a shield, to right a wall, To sectaries a whip and maul, A magazine of history, A prizer of good company In manners pleasant and severe The good him loved, the bad did fear, And when his time with years was spent In some rejoiced, more did lament.
1653, age 77


by Anne Bradstreet | |

Deliverance from a Fit of Fainting

 Worthy art Thou, O Lord, of praise, 
But ah! It's not in me.
My sinking heart I pray Thee raise So shall I give it Thee.
My life as spider's webb's cut off, Thus fainting have I said, And living man no more shall see But be in silence laid.
My feeble spirit Thou didst revive, My doubting Thou didst chide, And though as dead mad'st me alive, I here a while might 'bide.
Why should I live but to Thy praise? My life is hid with Thee.
O Lord, no longer be my days Than I may fruitful be.


by Anne Bradstreet | |

To Her Father with Some Verses

 Most truly honoured, and as truly dear, 
If worth in me or ought I do appear, 
Who can of right better demand the same 
Than may your worthy self from whom it came? 
The principal might yield a greater sum, 
Yet handled ill, amounts but to this crumb; 
My stock's so small I know not how to pay, 
My bond remains in force unto this day; 
Yet for part payment take this simple mite, 
Where nothing's to be had, kings loose their right.
Such is my debt I may not say forgive, But as I can, I'll pay it while I live; Such is my bond, none can discharge but I, Yet paying is not paid until I die.