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Less wise than true - Anne Bradstreet "The Author to Her Book"

Where errors were not lessened - Anne Bradstreet "The Author to Her Book"

And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw - Anne Bradstreet "The Author to Her Book"

In critic's hands beware - Anne Bradstreet "The Author to Her Book"

All things within this fading world - Anne Bradstreet "Before the Birth of One of Her Children"

Interred in my oblivious grave - Anne Bradstreet "Before the Birth of One of Her Children"

If any worth or virtue were in me - Anne Bradstreet "Before the Birth of One of Her Children"

That rivers cannot quench - Anne Bradstreet "To My Dear and Loving Husband"

In silent night when rest I took - Anne Bradstreet "Verses upon the Burning of our House"

That laid my goods now in the dust - Anne Bradstreet "Verses upon the Burning of our House"

A price so vast as is unknown - Anne Bradstreet "Verses upon the Burning of our House"

Bound up with frosts - Anne Bradstreet "Winter"


Poet's page at poets.org.


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