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. 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. Upon Some Distemper of Body

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

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