English poem
In Memory Of My Dear Grandchild Anne Bradstreet, Who Deceased June 20, 1699, Being Three Years And Seven Months Old
by Anne Bradstreet (1612–1672)
With troubled heart and trembling hand I write. The heavens have changed to sorrow my delight. How oft with dissappointment have I met When I on fading things my hopes have set. Experience might 'fore this have made me wise To value things according to their price. Was ever stable joy yet found below? Or perfect bliss without mixture of woe? I knew she was but as a withering flower, That's here today, perhaps gone in an hour; Like as a bubble, or the brittle glass, Or like a shadow turning, as it was. More fool, then, I to look on that was lent As if mine own, when thus impermanent. Farewell, dear child; thou ne'er shalt come to me, But yet a while and I shall go to thee. Meantime my throbbing heart's cheered up with this Thou with thy Savior art in endless bliss.
More by Anne Bradstreet
- I cannot wonder at Apollo now
- In honour Of Du Bartas, 1641.
- In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess, Queen ELIZABETH
- In Memory Of My Dear Grand-Child Elizabeth Bradstreet, Who Deceased August, 1665, Being A Year And Half Old.
- In Memory of My Dear Grandchild Elizabeth Bradstreet, Who Deceased August, 1665 Being a Year and a Half Old
- In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence
- In Reference to Her Children
- In Thankful Remembrance for My Dear Husband's Safe Arrival