A Letter to her Husband, absent upon Publick employment
Anne Bradstreet
1612 to 1672
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My head, my heart, mine Eyes, my life, nay more,
My joy, my Magazine of earthly store,
If two one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lye?
So many steps, head the heart to sever
If but a neck, soon we be together:
I like the earth this season, in black,
My Sun is gone so far in’s Zodiack,
Whom whilst I ’joy’d, nor storms, nor frosts I felt,
His warmth such frigid colds did cause to melt.
chilled limbs now nummed lye forlorn;
Return, return sweet from Capricorn;
In this dead time, alas, what can more
Then view those fruits which through thy heat bore?
Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,
living Pictures of their Fathers face.
O strange effect! thou art Southward gone,
I weary grow, the tedious so long;
But when thou Northward to me shalt return,
I wish my Sun may never set, but burn
the Cancer of my glowing breast,
The welcome house him my dearest guest.
Where ever, ever stay, and not thence,
Till natures sad decree shall call thee hence;
Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,
I here, thou there, yet both but one.