Anne Bradstreet, To My Dear and Loving Husband, A Discussion
"To My Dear and Loving Husband" was written by America's first female poet, the Puritan, Anne Bradstreet. In fact, Anne Bradstreet is one of only a handful of female American poets during the first 200 years of America's history. After Bradstreet, one can list only Phillis Wheatley, the 18th century black female poet, Emma Lazarus, the 19th century poet whose famous words appear on the Statue of Liberty, and the 19th century Emily Dickinson, America's most famous female poet.
"To My Dear and Loving Husband" has several standard poetic features. One is the two line rhyme scheme. Another is the anaphora, the repetition of a phrase, in the first three lines. And a third is the popular iambic pentameter.
Iambic pentameter is characterized by an unrhymed line with five feet or accents. Each foot contains an unaccented syllable and an accented syllable, as in "da Dah, da Dah, da Dah, da Dah, da Dah."
The subject of Anne Bradstreet's love poem is her professed love for her husband. She praises him and asks the heavens to reward him for his love. The poem is a touching display of love and affection and extraordinarily uncommon for the Puritan era of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in which Anne Bradstreet lived.
Puritan women were expected to be reserved, domestic, and subservient to their husbands. They were not expected or allowed to exhibit their wit, charm, intelligence, or passion. John Winthrop, the Massachusetts governor, once remarked that women who exercised wit or intelligence were apt to go insane.
Anne Bradstreet was born Anne Dudley in 1612 in England. She married Simon Bradstreet when she was 16 and they both sailed with her family to America in 1630. The difficult, cold voyage to America took 3 months to complete. John Winthrop was also a passenger on the trip. The voyage landed in Boston and the passengers joined the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
The men in Anne Bradstreet's family were managers and politicians. Both her father and her husband became Massachusetts governors. Her husband, Simon, often traveled for weeks throughout the colony as its administrator.
Anne Bradstreet's poem, "To My Dear and Loving Husband," was a response to her husband's absence.
Very little is known about Anne Bradstreet's life in Massachusetts. There are not portraits of her and she does not even have a grave marker. She and her family moved several times, each time further away from Boston into the frontier. Anne and Simon had 8 children during a 10 year period, and all the children survived healthy and safe, a remarkable accomplishment considering the health and safety hazards of the period.
Anne Bradstreet was highly intelligent and largely self-educated. She took herself seriously as an intellectual and a poet, reading widely in history, science, art, and literature. However, as a good Puritan woman, Bradstreet did not make her accomplishments public.
Bradstreet wrote poetry for herself, family, and friends, never meaning to publish them. Consider that her friend, Anne Hutchinson was intellectual, educated and led women's prayer meetings where alternative religious beliefs were discussed. She was labeled a heretic and banished from the colony. Hutchinson eventually died in an Indian attack. Is it any wonder that Anne Bradstreet was hesitant to publish her poetry and call attention to herself?
Anne Bradstreet's early poems were secretly taken by her brother-in-law to England and published in a small volume when she was 38. The volume sold well in England, but the poems were not nearly as accomplished as her later works.
Bradstreet's later works were not published during her lifetime. Her poems about her love for her husband were private and personal, meant to be shared with her family and friends group only.
Though her health was frequently a concern, especially during childbirth, Anne Bradstreet lived until 60 years of age.
Enjoy "To My Dear and Loving Husband," a remarkable accomplishment.
To My Dear and Loving Husband
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
*****************************
Garry Gamber is a public school teacher and entrepreneur. He writes articles about real estate, health and nutrition, and internet dating services. He is the owner of http://www.Anchorage-Homes.com and http://www.TheDatingAdvisor.com.
MORE RESOURCES:
 BBC News | Turkey restores citizenship of celebrated poet The Associated Press - He wrote some of his best poetry in prison, including his epic masterpiece, "Human Landscapes." Poetry written in prison was smuggled abroad, bringing him ... Turkey rehabilitates poet Hikmet Turkey's Poet Hikmet to Have Citizenship Restored Turkish minister says Cabinet will restore citizenship of ... |
 Boston Globe | A look at a life, a war, and poetry under fire Boston Globe, United States - Whitman was also trying to convert horror into poetry. But as Roper points out, making sense of war is daunting work. Whitman's efforts are collected in ... |
Crossing sings poetry set to music Philadelphia Inquirer, PA - By David Patrick Stearns The ever-ambitious modern-music choir the Crossing entered a particularly enterprising phase with its winter concert at ... |
AMERICAN LIFE IN POETRY: Warm, gooey and fun Grand Forks Herald, ND - American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the ... An Interview with Mark Irwin |
Poetry contest deadline Wicked Local Middleton, MA - By Staff reports The deadline for the annual Naomi Cherkofsky Memorial Poetry contest, sponsored by the North Shore Poets’ Forum, is March 10, 2009. ... |
Five Poetry and Prose Contests at WinningWriters.com Will Award ... PR Web (press release), WA - Five poetry and prose contests now open at WinningWriters.com will award over $24000 in cash. The contests include the Tom Howard/John H. Reid Short Story ... |
Poetry: Repetition can be an intense experience The Evening Sun, PA - Indeed, there are many legitimate forms of poetry whose guidelines dictate that whole lines be repeated in a patterned way to demonstrate an implicit sense ... |
Poetry, Buffet Style: Locating DC's Popular Open Mics NBC Washington, DC - Like the book, the DC poetry scene is a smorgasbord of Webster’s finest, and if you are lucky, by the time you get to Saturday you will be full and ready to ... |
Todd Boss, a new voice in the world of poetry Christian Science Monitor, MA - By Marjorie Kehe | 01.04.09 “Todd Boss is going to be a poetry all-star,” predicts Sherman Alexie. “He can make any rhyme feel like a concealed weapon. ... |
Poetry by Linda Hogan NewsOK.com, OK - At a time when we would all like to go “green” and return ourselves to right thinking about nature and all living things, a perfect little book of poetry ... |
Birthday Messages
I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.
Tsunami Day
A Poem - By Lorraine KemberIt was a day like any other and mother, father, sister, brother, were carrying out the customs of their land.When suddenly without warning, Mother Nature came calling,shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.
Three Poems: Liberty, Death, and a Frog [with Commentary on Liberty]
Frog SummerSummer grows hot, for theNew-blooded frogs;The bugs are thin, yet theFrogs stay fat, young and sassy.In these palsy times-they Only listen, as we wither away.
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?NamWere playing cards, singing songs;In a solo-room, back of the hutLay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distanceWas his sidekick, Corporal Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fightThis bully of six-foot-twoDog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI wanted to fight him too.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcatlQuetzalcatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so theyCalled him Quetzalcatl-feather SerpentHe and his crew of nineteen: facesStrange faces, images of a prince, a lord:King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals;White as day, with a long beard, black hair.Some say red: some don't say?But they called him priest, Lord, kingAmongst many things: god!.
The Power of Eating Disorders
I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what you might see.
Poetry in a Nutshell
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form.
Two Poems and a Short Story
1)dying in the bar[sluggishly]yet,I would crawl tooupto the bar,it was everything, the dampnessthe carved woodthe zoned-out-ness in my headdreaming; it was better than death?then I took another drink?so manyI never moved much, like dead fish.my head split like an assit was numb and, nothing else numbness was my homeacross the street, dancingon the patiothe moon was out.
Sleep, Dreams, and a Poem
The Incubus' Flash-lightHe looked inside my headAnd found a dreamHe didn't like-;As I looked back at him,I found an incubus Shinning a light(and stole this poem fromhim-last night).Thoughts: Dreams and Poetry: in dreams we let go of our inhibitions; in poetry we write them back out.
Burning Autumn Leaves [a poem in Spanish and English]
Burning Autumn Leaves[1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel pointed rake punctured And twisted through tons of autumn leaves(back in the '50s);And there's a hill yet, I didn't rake, I seeBehind it, two embankmentsLeaves I didn't rake a day ago;The essence of fall sleeps on the ground.
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they sayWhen don Simon BolivarSlept in the arms of beautiful-Luisa Crober(of Jamaica); thus anAssassin missed his markWhen he stabbed Major AmestoySleeping in the darkIn Bolivar's hammock!.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stoneThu art a condor to the skyOf glory hidden in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and trembleBeyond your rustic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, within its stream!My image deeply carved, rippledIn its undiluted shallow watersWaiting, just waiting for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides behind the Minute?What hides behind the minute?It seems, no one really knows;How many times will we wakeup,To count the minutes gone?The rose was dead when I arrived;The sword, was rusty and dull;The window curtain was open,And there was music in the hall.Oh lovely minute, where art thou?One, is not like the other-:Whirling in an earthly orbit,As the boundless world discovers.
Here And There
My eyes opened. I am still alive;Living on planet earth.
Man Unbowed [A poem]
Man UnbowedUnbowed by sin, the world of man, standsUpon his feet he gapes into the sky,The indifference of centuries within his eyes,And in his heart the curse of the old world.Who made him dead to love and God?A thing that breathes only for wants and needs,With a lack of emotion, a brother to the fox?Who tightened and pushed up his jagged brow?(To make him look so grand, so proud-so tall.
Joined
JOINEDHeart beat of manpounding - yet unheardjoined becomes thebeat of a nation.Words of man written - yetunreadjoinedbecomes a proclamation.
My Grannio
I never thought I would have to say GOODBYE to my best friend? But that's what I had to do today I had to let go of her forever -There was no other way For me to face reality Or pretend to be okay I had no concept -Of how hard it would be To actually let go Of this huge part of me? Not tomorrow or ever -Will my life be the same Without my Grannio here Life seems to be a game - Of chance and questions?Questions that never end And have no answers That can begin to mend The gaping hole inside of meNor come close to healing My heart and soul that Seem to be feeling Lost, numb and empty-Completely hollow? Like I have nobody left To really follow - Through life with respectShe was so much more Than my Grandmother I knew that before She left this earthAnd I told her so More than once or twice Because she had to know Just how very special -And truly blessed I felt to have her as my friend She was the best Without a doubt -My Grannio gave me More than anybody Will ever really see? It was an unspoken -Kind of love That came with no conditions And went far above The normal caringAnd average support For a grandchild - Or family of any sort She gave more of herselfTo me than anyone In my life ever will Nobody could have done What she did for meWith so much devotion, Absolute honesty And true emotion? Her loyalty was -Sincerely undying I realize so much Now that I'm crying - And wishing thatI had just one more day To spend holding her hand And trying to take away Her fears and her pain -That took over her Body and her mind Like never before? In our lives -I would have sincerely Given 20 years of my life To have her merely Be here tomorrow -I cannot explain The way I feel today Or how much I pain Is inside of me -That will never go away No matter how much time passes I know this ache will stay With me forever?Just as her special touch Will always be with me And mean so very much - To me and my son?Jakob Thomas Her "BabyDoll" And I promise To never forget -What she would have done If she was still here For him - her only one Great-grandchild?Resource Box - Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.
A Case of The Fears
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for the FluWhen I get a case of the FearsWhat is a person to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from feeling wholeI know what will do the trick,What will put me back on top,A great big bowl of Ice CreamWill really hit the spotThat was great and now I am doneOne bowl just won't doIf one is good, then more is greatAnd now I have eaten two.Bowls three, four, five and sixCame and then they wentI think my case of the fears are fixedLook at how my time was spentI am getting sleepyIt is time to go to bedMy fears are no longer in my stomachNow they are in my headI close my eyes and I can seeThe Fears I want to killI will do, whatever it takesTo keep the monsters still.
For My Mother
I cannot bear to thinkof when you will be gone.I do not understandhow I will get along.
Hindu Poet - Kamalakanta
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th Century. From an early age he expressed an interest in spirituality and later in life Kamalakanta received initiation into Tantric Yoga from a Tantric yogi named Kenaram Bhattacharya.
