Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SOME VERSES UPON THE BURNING OF OUR HOUSE JULY 10, 1666, by ANNE BRADSTREET


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SOME VERSES UPON THE BURNING OF OUR HOUSE JULY 10, 1666, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: In silent night when rest I took
Last Line: My hope and treasure lies above.
Variant Title(s): Upon The Burning Of Our House July 10th 1666;here Follows Some Verses Upon The Burning Of Our House July
Subject(s): Americans; Children; Fire; Home; Marriage; Puritans; Sickness; United States; Childhood; Weddings; Husbands; Wives; Illness; America


In silent night when rest I took
For sorrow near I did not look
I wakened was with thund'ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of Fire! and Fire!
Let no man know is my desire.
I, starting up, the light did spy,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my distress
And not to leave me succorless.
Then coming out, beheld a space
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And when I could no longer look,
I blest his name that gave and took,
That laid my goods now in the dust.
Yea so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own, it was not mine,
Far be it that I should repine;
He might of all justly bereft
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the ruins oft I past
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,
And here and there the places spy
Where oft I sat and long did lie:
Here stood that trunk, and there that chest,
There lay that store I counted best.
My pleasant things in ashes lie,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under thy roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy table eat a bit.
No pleasant tale shall e'er be told,
Nor things recounted done of old.
No candle e'er shall shine in thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice e'er heard shall be.
In silence ever shall thou lie,
Adieu, adieu, all's vanity.
Then straight I 'gin my heart to chide,
And did thy wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mold'ring dust?
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
That dunghill mists away may fly.
Thou hast an house on high erect,
Framed by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished,
Stands permanent though this be fled.
It's purchased and paid for too
By him who hath enough to do.
A price so vast as is unknown
Yet by his gift is made thine own;
There's wealth enough, I need no more,
Farewell, my pelf, farewell my store.
The world no longer let me love,
My hope and treasure lies above.






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