1. Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale
  2. From Blossoms
  3. Wild Geese
  4. The Peace of Wild Things
  5. My Gift to You
  6. Departing Spring
  7. The Skylark
  8. What a Strange Thing!
  9. Although The Wind …
  10. The Old Pond
  11. Spring Is Like A Perhaps Hand
  12. Hast thou 2 loaves of bread …
  13. Youth and Age
  14. A Postcard From the Volcano
  15. The Kraken
  16. He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
  17. There Is a Solitude of Space
  18. Because I Could Not Stop for Death
  19. Mad Song
  20. Answer July
  21. Success Is Counted Sweetest
  22. Hope Is the Thing with Feathers
  23. The Bluebird
  24. A Vision of the End
  25. The Crying of Water
  26. A Rose Has Thorns As Well As Honey
  27. Winter
  28. The Dark Cavalier
  29. There is no Life or Death
  30. Sheep in Winter
  31. To a Snowflake
  32. Sextain
  33. A Crocodile
  34. Sea Fever
  35. The Giant Cactus of Arizona
  36. The Coming of Night
  37. Going to the Picnic
  38. Moon Tonight
  39. A Southern Night
Snow

Cold, moist, young phlegmy winter now doth lie
In swaddling clouts, like new-born infancy; 
Bound up with frosts, and fur’d with hail & snows,
And, like an infant, still it taller grows. 
December is my first, and now the sun 
To the southward Tropick his swift race doth run. 
This month he’s hous’d in horned Capricorn
From thence he ’gins to length the shortened morn, 
Through Christendom with great festivity, 
Now’s held (but guessed) for blest Nativity. 
Cold, frozen January next comes in,
Chilling the blood, and shrinking up the skin.
In Aquarius now keeps the long-wish’d sun,
And northward his unwearied course doth run.
The day much longer than it was before, 
The cold not lessened, but augmented more.
Now toes and ears, and fingers often freeze,
And travelers their noses sometimes leese.
Moist snowy February is my last,
I care not how the winter-time doth haste.
In Pisces now the golden sun doth shine, 
And northward still approaches to the line.
The rivers ’gin to ope, the snows to melt, 
And some warm glances from his face are felt;
Which is increased by the lengthen’d day, 
Until by’s heat, he drive all cold away. 
And thus the year in circle runneth round; 
Where first it did begin, in th’ end its found.

Anne Bradstreet (1612–1672) was an England-born American poet, and the first woman to be recognized as an accomplished New World Poet.


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