If two be one . . .

I posted this poem, by the first published female poet in America, a couple of weeks ago on my professional blog. One of the museums where I work is in a town where Anne lived and wrote, so we've got some things planned for the 400th anniversary of her birthday next year. Upon reflection, of course, it's a perfect piece for here, this marriage/wedding blog of mine, especially given Justin's current deployment. Enjoy!

A Letter to Her Husband, Absent upon Public Employment

by Anne Bradstreet

(1612-1672)

My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay, more,

My joy, my magazine of earthly store,

If two be one, as surely thou and I,

How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie?

So many steps, head from the heart to sever,

If but a neck, soon should we be together.

I like the Earth this season, mourn in black,

My Sun is gone so far in's zodiac,

Whom whilst I 'joyed, nor storms, nor frost I felt,

His warmth such frigid colds did cause to melt.

My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlorn;

Return; return, sweet Sol, from Capricorn;

In this dead time, alas, what can I more

Than view those fruits which through thy heat I bore?

Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,

True living pictures of their father's face.

O strange effect! now thou art southward gone,

I weary grow the tedious day so long;

But when thou northward to me shalt return,

I wish my Sun may never set, but burn

Within the Cancer of my glowing breast,

The welcome house of him my dearest guest.

Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence,

Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence;

Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,

I here, thou there, yet but both one.