Poem by Anne Bradstreet

An Apology

To finish what's begun, was my intent,
My thoughts and my endeavours thereto bent;
Essays I many made but still gave out,
The more I mus'd, the more I was in doubt:
The subject large my mind and body weak,
With many moe discouragements did speak.
All thoughts of further progress laid aside,
Though oft perswaded, I as oft deny'd,
At length resolv'd, when many years had past,
To prosecute my story to the last;
And for the same, I hours not few did spend,
And weary lines (though lanke) I many pen'd:
But 'fore I could accomplish my desire,
My papers fell a prey to th'raging fire.
And thus my pains (with better things) I lost,
Which none had cause to wail, nor I to boast.
No more I'le do sith I have suffer'd wrack,
Although my Monarchies their legs do lack:
Nor matter is't this last, the world now sees,
Hath many Ages been upon his knees.

1. For Deliverance from a Feaver
2. In Thankful Remembrance for My Dear Husband’s Safe Arrival
3. Deliverance from a Fit of Fainting
4. To Her Most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq; These Humbly Presented
5. For the Restoration of My Dear Husband from a Burning Ague, June, 1661

Edwin Arnold An Apology ("Our name should be a name for hope to utter")

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