Anna Laetitia Barbauld

(20 June 1743 – 9 March 1825 / Leicestershire, England)

Anna Laetitia Barbauld Poems

1. Octogenery Reflections 9/6/2010
2. To Miss R.: On Her Attendance On Her Mother At Buxton 9/6/2010
3. To Mr. Bowring 9/6/2010
4. To Mrs. Marissal 9/6/2010
5. To The Baron Destonne 9/6/2010
6. Verses On Mrs Rowe 9/6/2010
7. On The King's Illness 9/6/2010
8. Pastoral Hymn 9/6/2010
9. Peace And Shepherd 9/6/2010
10. Praise To God 9/6/2010
11. In The Manner Of Spenser 9/6/2010
12. To The Baron Destonne, 9/6/2010
13. To Mrs. A. 9/6/2010
14. To Miss F. B.: On Her Asking For Mrs. B's Love And Time 9/6/2010
15. To Mr. Barbauld 9/6/2010
16. Where A Crowd Of Pilgrims Toil 9/6/2010
17. Prologue To A Drama 9/6/2010
18. Ovid To His Wife 9/6/2010
19. Ode To Remorse 9/6/2010
20. Songs 9/6/2010
21. On The Backwardness Of The Spring 1771 9/6/2010
22. West End Fair 9/6/2010
23. To Mrs. P********, With Some Drawings Of Birds And Insects. 9/6/2010
24. To The Miss Websters 9/6/2010
25. Tormenting Cares 9/6/2010
26. On The Death Of Mrs. Martineau, Senr. 9/6/2010
27. The Wake Of The King Of Spain 9/6/2010
28. Hymn To Content 9/6/2010
29. Written On A Marble 9/6/2010
30. On A Portrait 9/6/2010
31. Logogriph 9/6/2010
32. The Epiphany 9/6/2010
33. How Blest The Righteous When He Dies! 9/6/2010
34. Jehovah Reigns 9/6/2010
35. Verses Written In An Alcove 9/6/2010
36. What Do The Futures Speak Of? 9/6/2010
37. Lines 9/6/2010
38. The Origin Of Song Writing 9/6/2010
39. To Love And Time 9/6/2010
40. To Miss T. 9/6/2010
Best Poem of Anna Laetitia Barbauld

Eighteen Hundred And Eleven

Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,
O'er the vext nations pours the storm of war:
To the stern call still Britain bends her ear,
Feeds the fierce strife, the' alternate hope and fear;
Bravely, though vainly, dares to strive with Fate,
And seeks by turns to prop each sinking state.
Colossal power with overwhelming force
Bears down each fort of Freedom in its course;
Prostrate she lies beneath the Despot's sway,
While the hushed nations curse him—and obey.

Bounteous in vain, with frantic man at strife,
Glad Nature pours the means—the joys of ...

Read the full of Eighteen Hundred And Eleven



Farewell the softer hours, Spring's opening blush
And Summer's deeper glow, the shepherd's pipe
Tuned to the murmurs of a weeping spring,
And song of birds, and gay enameled fields,—
Farewell! 'T is now the sickness of the year,
Not to be medicined by the skillful hand.
Pale suns arise that like weak kings behold

[Hata Bildir]