Anne Bradstreet
The Vanity of All Worldly Things
As he said vanity, so vain say I, Oh! Vanity, O vain all under sky; Where is the man can say, “Lo, I have found On brittle earth a consolation sound”? What isn’t in
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
Spirit
Be still, thou unregenerate part, Disturb no more my settled heart, For I have vow’d (and so will do) Thee as a foe still to pursue, And combat with thee will and must Until
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
Here Follows Some Verses upon the Burning of Our House
In silent night when rest I took For sorrow near I did not look I waked was with thund’ring noise And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice. That fearful sound of “Fire!” and “Fire!” Let
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
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
In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence
O Lord, Thou hear’st my daily moan And see’st my dropping tears. My troubles all are Thee before, My longings and my fears. Thou hitherto hast been my God; Thy help my soul hath
Upon a Fit of Sickness
Twice ten years old not fully told Since nature gave me breath, My race is run, my thread spun, Lo, here is fatal death. All men must die, and so must I; This cannot
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
Meditations Divine and Moral
A ship that bears much sail, and little ballast, is easily Overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his Heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering. The finest
Of the Four Ages of Man
Lo, now four other act upon the stage, Childhood and Youth, the Many and Old age: The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water, Unstable, supple, cold and moist’s his nature The second, frolic,
Deliverance from Another Sore Fit
In my distress I sought the Lord When naught on earth could comfort give, And when my soul these things abhorred, Then, Lord, Thou said’st unto me, “Live.” Thou knowest the sorrows that I
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
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