Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 16 September 1672 / Northampton, England)
To my Dear and Loving Husband
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd 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
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
Poet Other Poems
- A Dialogue between Old England and New
- A Letter to Her Husband
- A Love Letter to Her Husband
- An Apology
- An EPITAPH On my dear and ever honoured ...
- Another (II)
- As spring the winter doth succeed
- As weary pilgrim, now at rest
- Author to her Book, The
- Before the Birth of One of Her Children
- By Night when Others Soundly Slept
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Contemplations by Anne Bradstreet )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley