Anne Bradstreet

Anne Bradstreet

1,000 карма
United Kingdom (Great Britain)

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Phoebus make haste, the day's too long, begone,
The silent night's the fittest time for moan;
But stay this once, unto my suit give ear,
And tell my griefs in either Hemisphere: (And if the whirling of thy wheels do n't drown'd The ...
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Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide, When Ph{oe}bus wanted but one hour to bed, The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride, Were gilded o're by his rich golden head
Their leaves and fruits seem'd painted but was true Of green, of red, of...
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Her Mother's
Here liesA worthy matron of unspotted life,
A loving mother and obedient wife,
A friendly neighbor, pitiful to poor,
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With troubled heart and trembling hand I write
The heavens have changed to sorrow my delight
How oft with dissappointment have I
When I on fading things my hopes have set
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Worthy art Thou,
O Lord, of praise,
But ah
It's not in me
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O Lord,
Thou hear'st my daily moan And see'st my dropping tears
My troubles all are Thee before,
My longings and my fears
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When feares and sorrowes me besett,
Then did'st thou rid me out;
When heart did faint and spirits quail,
Thou comforts me about
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