Tag Archives: Anne
The Author to Her Book by Anne Bradstreet
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain, Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad, expos’d to publick view, Made thee in raggs, halting to th’ press … Continue reading
Swifts by Anne Stevenson
Spring comes little, a little. All April it rains. The new leaves stick in their fists; new ferns still fiddleheads. But one day the swifts are back. Face to the sun like a child You shout, ‘The swifts are back!’ … Continue reading
Granny Scarecrow by Anne Stevenson
Tears flowed at the chapel funeral, more beside the grave on the hill. Nevertheless, after the last autumn ploughing, they crucified her old flowered print housedress live, on a pole. Marjorie and Emily, shortcutting to school, … Continue reading