Poem by Anne Bradstreet

Upon Some Distemper of Body

In anguish of my heart replete with woes, 
And wasting pains, which best my body knows, 
In tossing slumbers on my wakeful bed, 
Bedrenched with tears that flowed from mournful head, 
Till nature had exhausted all her store, 
Then eyes lay dry, disabled to weep more; 
And looking up unto his throne on high, 
Who sendeth help to those in misery; 
He chased away those clouds and let me see 
My anchor cast i’ th’ vale with safety. 
He eased my soul of woe, my flesh of pain, 
and brought me to the shore from troubled main.

1. In Thankful Remembrance for My Dear Husband’s Safe Arrival
2. Meditations Divine and Moral
3. For the Restoration of My Dear Husband from a Burning Ague, June, 1661
4. Upon a Fit of Sickness
5. As Spring the Winter Doth Succeed

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