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Anne Bradstreet (ca. 1612 – September 16, 1672) was the first published American woman writer.
- If for thy Father askt, say, thou hadst none;
And for thy Mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus'd her thus to send thee out of door.
- The Author to Her Book.
- 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 Night when Others Soundly Slept.
- A Spring returns, and they more youthful made;
But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.
- "Sister," quoth Flesh, "what liv'st thou on
Nothing but Meditation?
- The Flesh and the Spirit.
- Such cold mean flowers the spring puts forth betime,
Before the sun hath thoroughly heat the clime.
- Of the Four Ages of Man.
- Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire,
Fly back and sing amidst this choir.
- In Reference to her Children, 23 June 1659.
- If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
- To my Dear and Loving Husband.
- The principal might yield a greater sum,
Yet handled ill, amounts but to this crumb;
- To Her Father with Some Verses.
Meditations Divine and Moral (1664)
- Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending.
- Authority without wisdom is like a heavy axe without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish.
- If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
- Fire hath its force abated by water, not by wind; and anger must be allayed by cold words, and not by blustering threats.