In silent night when rest I took,

For sorrow near I did not look,

I wakened was with thundering noise

And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.

That fearful sound of "Fire!" and "Fire!"          5

Let no man know is my Desire.

I, starting up, the light did spy,

And to my God my heart did cry

To strengthen me in my distress

And not to leave me succorless.                  10

Then coming out beheld a space,

The flame consume my dwelling place.

And, when I could no longer look,

I blest His name that gave and took,

That laid my goods now in the dust:            15

Yea so it was, and so ‘twas just.

It was His own: it was not mine;

Far be it that I should repine.

He might of all justly bereft,

But yet sufficient for us left.                      20

When by the ruins oft I passed,

My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,

And here and there the places spy

Where oft I sat, and long did lie.

Here stood that trunk, and there that chest; 25

There lay that store I counted best:

My pleasant things in ashes lie,

And them behold no more shall I.

Under thy roof no guest shall sit,

Nor at thy table eat a bit.                          30

No pleasant tale shall e’er be told,

Nor things recounted done of old.

No candle e’er shall shine in thee,

Nor bridegroom’s voice e’er heard shall be.

In silence ever shalt thou lie;                      35

Adieu, adieu; all’s vanity.

Then straight I ‘gin my heart to chide,

And did thy wealth on earth abide?

Didst fix thy hope on mould’ring dust?

The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?        40

Raise up thy thoughts above the sky,

That dunghill mists away may fly.

Thou hast an house on high erect,

Framed by that mighty Architect,

With glory richly furnished,                       45

Stands permanent, though this be fled.

It’s purchased, and paid for, too,

By Him who hath enough to do.

A prize so vast as is unknown,

Yet, by His gift, is made thine own.          50

There’s wealth enough, I need no more;

Farewell my pelf, farewell my store.

The world no longer let me love,

My hope and treasure lies above.

"To My Dear and Loving Husband"

Anne Bradstreet

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.

I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold 5

Or all riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.

Thy love is such I can no way repay,

The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray. 10

Then while we live, in love let’s so persevere

That when we live no more, we may live ever.

A curious Knot God made in Paradise,

And drew it out enameled neatly Fresh.

It was the True-Love Knot, more sweet than spice,

And set with all the flowers of Grace's dress.

It's Wedding's Knot, that ne’er can be untied:                         5

No Alexander's Sword can it divide.

The slips here planted, gay and glorious grow:

Unless a Hellish breath do singe their Plumes.

Here Primrose, Cowslips, Roses, Lilies blow,

With Violets and Pinks that void perfumes:                          10

Whose beauteous leaves o’re laid with Honey Dew,

And Chanting birds Chirp out sweet Music true.

When in this Knot I planted was, my Stock

Soon knotted, and a manly flower out brake.

And after it my branch again did knot:                                15

Brought out another Flower: its sweet breath’d mate.

One knot gave the other and the other's place;

Thence Checkling smiles fought in each other's face.

But oh! a glorious hand from glory came,

Guarded with Angels, soon did Crop this flower,                  20

Which almost tore the root up of the same,

At that unlooked for, Dolesome, darksome hour.

In prayer to Christ perfumed it did ascend,

And Angels bright did it to heaven tend.

But pausing on’t, this sweet perfum’d my thought,              25

Christ would in Glory have a Flower, Choice, Prime.

And having Choice, chose this my branch forth brought.

Lord, take it. I thank thee, thou tak’st ought of mine;

It is my pledge in glory; part of me

Is now in it, Lord, glorified with thee.                              30

But praying over my branch, my branch did sprout,

And bore another manly flower, and gay,

And after that another, sweet broke out,

The which the former hand soon got away.

But oh! the torture, Vomit, screechings, groans:                35

And six weeks Fever would pierce hearts like stones.

Grief does overflow: and nature fault would find

Were not thy Will my Spell, Charm, Joy, and Gem:

That as I said, I say, take, Lord, they're thine:

I piecemeal pass to Glory bright in them.                         40

I joy, may I sweet Flowers for Glory breed,

Whether thou gets them green, or lets them seed.

"Huswifery"

Edward Taylor

Make me, O Lord, Thy spinning wheel complete.

Thy holy word my distaff make for me.

Make mine affections Thy swift flyers meat,

And make my soul Thy holy spool to be.

My conversation make to be Thy reel, 5

And reel the yarn thereon spun of Thy wheel.

Make me Thy loom then, knit therein this twine;

And make Thy holy spirit, Lord, wind quills;

Then weave the web Thyself. The yarn is fine.

Thine ordinances make my fulling mills. 10

Then dye the same in heavenly colors choice.

All pinked with varnished flowers of paradise.

Then clothe therewith mine understanding, will,

Affections, judgment, conscience, memory,

My words and actions, that their shine may fill 15

My ways with glory and Thee glorify.

Then mine apparel shall display before Ye

That I am clothed in holy robes for glory.