English poem
A Letter to Her Husband
by Anne Bradstreet (1612–1672)
Absent upon Public Employment
My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay more, My joy, my magazine, of earthly store, If two be one, as surely thou and I, How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie? So many steps, head from the heart to sever, If but a neck, soon should we be together. I, like the Earth this season, mourn in black, My Sun is gone so far in's zodiac, Whom whilst I 'joyed, nor storms, nor frost I felt, His warmth such fridged colds did cause to melt. My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlorn; Return; return, sweet Sol, from Capricorn; In this dead time, alas, what can I more Than view those fruits which through thy heart I bore? Which sweet contentment yield me for a space, True living pictures of their father's face. O strange effect! now thou art southward gone, I weary grow the tedious day so long; But when thou northward to me shalt return, I wish my Sun may never set, but burn Within the Cancer of my glowing breast, The welcome house of him my dearest guest. Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence, Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence; Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone, I here, thou there, yet both but one.
More by Anne Bradstreet
- A Funeral Elogy
- A Love Letter To Her Husband
- An Anagram
- An Apology
- An Elegie Upon That Honourable And Renowned Knight Sir Philip Sidney, Who Was Untimely Slain At The Siege Of Zutphen, Anno, 1586.
- An Epitaph On My Dear And Ever Honoured Mother Mrs. Dorothy Dudley, Who Deceased Decemb. 27. 1643. And Of Her Age, 61.
- Another
- Another to Mrs. Anne Bradstreet, Author of this Poem