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NEW ENGLAND'S ANNOYANCES.1
New England's annoyances, you that would know them,
THE place where we live is a wilderness wood,
But, when the spring opens, we then take the hoe,
1 Written towards 1630; the oldest known composition in English verse by an American colonist.
And when it is growing some spoil there is made
And now do our garments begin to grow thin,
Our other in-garments are clout upon clout.
If fresh meat be wanting, to fill up our dish
We repair to the clam-banks, and there we catch fish.
If barley be wanting to make into malt,
Now while some are going let others be coming,
[Born in England in 1613, daughter of Thomas Dudley, steward to the Earl of Lincoln; died in New England in 1672. She married in 1629 Simon Bradstreet, who appears at that date to have been the successor to her father as the Earl's steward in the following year all three, with other Nonconformists, settled in New England. As may readily be inferred from the very early age at which she left her native shores, Mrs. Bradstreet, as an authoress, belongs exclusively to America. The first collection of her poems was published at Boston in 1640, with the long title of—Several Poems, compiled with great variety of wit and learning, full of delight, wherein especially is contained a Complete Discourse and Description of the Four Elements, Constitutions, Ages of Man, and Seasons of the Year; together with an Exact Epitome of the Three First Monarchies, viz.: the Assyrian, Persian, and Grecian, and the Beginning of the Roman Commonwealth to the end of their last King; with divers other pleasant and serious Poems. By a Gentlewoman of New England. This volume was reprinted in London in 1650; the lofty title of "The Tenth Muse, lately sprung up in America," being awarded to the authoress. Besides her literary deservings, Mrs. Bradstreet appears to have been a loveable and excellent woman. Both her father and her husband became Gcvernors of Massachusetts. After her death, the latter married again; and, living not much less than a century, was termed "the Nestor of New England." Many of Mrs. Bradstreet's descendants -among them the poet Dana-have been distinguished for ability.]
ELEGY ON A GRANDCHILD.
FAREWELL, dear child, my heart's too much content,
Blest babe, why should I once bewail thy fate,
By Nature trees do rot when they are grown,
And time brings down what is both strong and tall. But plants new-set to be eradicate,
And buds new-blown to have so short a date,
Is by His hand alone that Nature guides, and Fate.
TO HER HUSBAND:
WRITTEN IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.
How soon, my dear, death may my steps attend,
Let that live freshly in my memory.
And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms,
[Born in 1779, died in 1843. Known principally as a painter. His longest poem is named The Sylphs of the Seasons, published in 1813].
"Он pour upon my soul again
That sad, unearthly strain,
That seems from other worlds to plain;
As if some melancholy star
Had mingled with her light her sighs,
"No-never came from aught below
That makes my heart to overflow
"For all I see around me wears
And something blent of smiles and tears
So, at that dreamy hour of day
First fell the strain of him who stole
In music to her soul.