Early American Poetry

Prologue - Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672)

        To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings,

        Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun,
        For my mean Pen are too superior things;
        Or how they all, or each their dates have run,
        Let Poets and Historians set these forth. 5
        My obscure lines shall not so dim their worth.

              But when my wond'ring eyes and envious heart

              Great Bartas' sugar'd lines do but read o'er,
              Fool, I do grudge the Muses did not part
            'Twixt him and me that over-fluent store. 10
            A Bartas can do what a Bartas will
            But simple I according to my skill.

       From School-boy's tongue no Rhet'ric we expect,

       Nor yet a sweet Consort from broken strings,
       Nor perfect beauty where's a main defect. 15
       My foolish, broken, blemished Muse so sings,
       And this to mend, alas, no Art is able,
       'Cause Nature made it so irreparable.

       Nor can I, like that fluent sweet-tongued Greek

       Who lisp'd at first, in future times speak plain. 20
     By Art he gladly found what he did seek,
       A full requital of his striving pain.
       Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure:
       A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.

            I am obnoxious to each carping tongue 25

            Who says my hand a needle better fits.
            A Poet's Pen all scorn I should thus wrong,
            For such despite they cast on female wits.
            If what I do prove well, it won't advance,
            They'll say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance. 30

      But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild,
       Else of our Sex, why feigned they those nine
       And poesy made Calliope's own child?
       So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts divine,
       But this weak knot they will full soon untie. 35
      The Greeks did nought but play the fools and lie.

       Let Greeks be Greeks, and Women what they are.

       Men have precedency and still excel;
       It is but vain unjustly to wage war.
       Men can do best, and Women know it well. 40
      Preeminence in all and each is yours;
       Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.

       And oh ye high flown quills that soar the skies,

       And ever with your prey still catch your praise,
       If e'er you deign these lowly lines your eyes, 45
       Give thyme or Parsley wreath, I ask no Bays.
       This mean and unrefined ore of mine
       Will make your glist'ring gold but more to shine.

What allusions or language are you confused about?

Identify the poem’s rhyme scheme and its various literary devices.

What is Bradstreet’s tone throughout the poem? What, if any, shifts do you see in that
tone? Identify the most important lines that reinforce the tone and/or its shift.

How does Bradstreet’s message reinforce or contradict what you know about Puritanism?

Anne Bradstreet: Poems Summary and

Analysis of "The Prologue"
Summary:

The poet does not think she will write about wars, captains, kings, or cities of
commonwealths. She believes that these topics are too "superior" for her pen, and should
be written by historians. Her lines, meanwhile, would be too "obscure."

However, when she lets her eyes wander over Bartas' work, she wishes the Muses had not
given him so much more talent. She feels that her work is simple compared to the work
of that great man. She claims that readers do not expect fancy words from schoolboys or
sweet music from broken instruments, and blames her Muse for giving her "broken,
blemished" words.

She does not think she is capable of ever harnessing Bartas' talent, and feels that a "weak
or wounded brain admits no cure." She is angry, however, with people who tell her that
her hand is better with a needle in it, and advise her to scorn the "poet's pen." Even if she
does write something worthy, she knows that critics will say she copied it with or that her
success is just due to luck.
The poet thinks that the Greeks must have been more "mild" toward feminine
achievement because of all the powerful female characters in mythology. However, she
criticizes Greek men, saying the "play the fools and lie." She just asks for Greeks to be
Greeks and for women to be women. She accepts that men "have precenency, and still
excell," and feels that there is no point for women to wage war on that reality. She hopes,
though, that women will get some small acknowledgment. She does not want "bays" but
will be content with a "thyme or parsley wreath." She knows that her ore is "unrefined,"
but knows that she can still make "glistening gold" shine.

Analysis:

“The Prologue” is one of Bradstreet’s most intellectually stimulating poems because she
invokes a historical and global context. The poem contains allusions to the Greeks,
Christianity, contemporary poetry, feminism, and psychology. While many critics have
assumed that this poem serves as an admission of Bradstreet's ambivalence about her
work, it is actually a bold assertion of the poet’s skill and her right to compose verse in an
era when feminism was far from becoming a political movement.

In the first stanza, the poet writes that she does not discuss the same topics as elite male
poets, like kings, commonwealths, and cities. Her lines are more “obscure” than theirs
and she focuses on more personal, intimate matters. Although she does not even claim the
title of poet, her rhyme scheme and meter are perfect; she uses precise iambic pentameter,
rhyming ABABCC. In the second stanza, Bradstreet compares her work to the great
French historian and poet, Guillaume DuBartas, whose work was popular with Puritans
because of its emphasis on Christian history. Bradstreet does not aspire to his equal, but
rather, to be simple and true to her skill.

In stanza three, she evokes the Muses for the first time. She claims a “foolish, blemished
Muse so sings” to her. One critic notes a prescient statement of Freudian psychology
when the poet compares herself to a schoolboy. He writes, “the imagery of this stanza
suggests a profound envy for the more obvious parts of the male anatomy, without which
the poet… feels inadequate for the task at hand…[and] no art can make up for this
irreparable fact of nature.”

In stanza four, the highly educated Bradstreet alludes to Demosthenes, the famed Greek
orator who overcame a lisp to achieve great prestige. Bradstreet, however, does not feel
that it is possible to overcome “a weak or wounded brain.” In stanza five, Bradstreet
stands up for her right to write poetry. She excoriates those who tell her that her hand is
better suited for a needle than a “poet’s pen” and laments the fact that even if her poems
do attain prominence, people will claim that she either stole them or chanced upon them
by accident.

In stanza six, she returns to the topic of the Greeks. Bradstreet explains that the Muses, a
group of nine females, occupy an exalted strata in Greek mythology. Unfortunately, most
Greek men were still not particularly open-minded about women's rights, and instead,
“did naught but play the fools and lie.” Bradstreet claims her right to have a voice, and
upholds domesticity as a valuable source of verse. As is indicative of her time period,
Bradstreet does not make claims of gender equality or suggest that patriarchy ought to be
discarded, but argues that women are capable of producing worthy work, and that critics
and readers alike should offer “some small acknowledgment” for a female poet's right to
express herself.

In the last stanza, Bradstreet conveys that she believes her work is humble. Her poems
are not “bays” but rather, they are “thyme or parsley wreath[s],” which are simple,
unimpressive household plants. Jane Donahue Eberwein claims that Bradstreet’s witty
and charming poem demonstrates that “masculine pretensions to intellectual superiority
are fundamentally unnecessary, as the two sexes complement each other like the humors
of the body and tend ideally toward that ‘perfect amity’ described by Phlegm” (see the
"Quaternions" for more information).

Critic Eileen Margerum considers "The Prologue" to be in the tradition of humility that
was common in the poetry of Bradstreet’s time. Margerum refuted some critics’ claims
that Bradstreet was unhappy with her own work and was too deferential to male poets
and figures in her life, like her father. Instead, she elucidates that Bradstreet was actually
writing within the traditions of the time. Humility and submissiveness towards the
audience was common in Latin poetry, and that was a holdover from the Roman
oratorical tradition. Bradstreet dedicated "The Quaternions" to her father, assigning him
traditional roles of worthy patron and senior poet. In the classical tradition, a patron was
usually a person of rank who supported a young poet, and protected him financially and
politically. Bradstreet also makes sure to credit the poet DuBartas, because he has served
as an inspiration to her.

Many of Bradstreet’s word choices in "The Prologue" exemplify her position of humility:
“mean” “foolish, broken, blemished," and “weak or wounded” are all part of the
traditional self-deprecating style. Bradstreet continues this theme throughout "The
Quaternions" and “Dialogue Between Old England and New.” Overall, as Margerum
notes, Bradstreet never “uses her sex as an excuse for writing poor poetry” and never
offers apologies for writing poetry in the first place. She did not think it sinful or uncouth
for her to write, but rather, her humble remarks “are creative applications of conventional
and obligatory poetic formulae, and not as expressions of self-doubt or deprecations of
her poetic abilities.”

How Anne Bradstreet Criticize the male society in her

Prologue.
In the prologue, Anne Bradstreet criticizes the frailty and folly attitude of men towards
women. In order to criticizes the male society, Bradstreet seeks help some literary
devices such as- irony and sarcasm. He satire the whole male society with her soft tone.
But, behind her soft tone there is a extreme criticism of male society. She is very polite
with the male society. But, her politeness marks the irony.
At the outset of the poem, she uses some understatements to make her position cleared.
She uses "mean pen" which indicate to her creativity. But, ironically she uses it to
indicate her inability. She compares her with Bartas, who has the chance to write
whatever he likes. But, in spite of being talented like Bartas, she is not allowed to do
anything according to her will. She sharply criticizes this attitude of male society with
polite tone.
She uses another understatements to compare her with school boy and from the later we
cannot except anything rhetorical.

                      "From school-boy's tongue no Rhet'ric we except,

                       Nor yet a sweet consort from broken strings.
Her inability is inborn. That is why, cannot be irreparable.

                     "And this to mend alas, no art is able

                      Cause nature made it so irreparable".

Though she degrades her position by comparing herself with school-boy, but we know
she is the first woman who writes something valuable in the early american society.
In the fourth stanza, she compares herself with Demosthenes who mumbles at his early
life. But, he had been able to come out from this problem and becomes a great orator.
But, as their worse situation  are made by the nature, so it is impossible for them to get
rid of it.

                    "Art can do much but this maxim's most sure

                      A week or wounded brain admits no cure."

According to  men, women are week by their born. So, they compel  a woman to feel
herself as week. This prejudice of men criticized by Bradstreet with polite tone. But, her
politeness are no longer exist in the next stanza. She brings directs attacks to male society
from fifth stanza. Here she reflects the hostility of the women with the male world. The
male society does not want them to have the taste of the enlighten world. So, they want to
confined them in darkness. They think that world will destroy,if they are brought out of
the house. Male world does not want her to ride on top. She uses "obnoxious" and
"carping tongue" to clarify the hostility of the male world. They try to degrade the
position of her by telling her that,"Her hands fit better at needle".
In the next stanza, her criticism becomes more direct and she uses some hyperbolic
expression to criticize male society in sarcastic way. She uses "excel" and "preeminence"
which are sarcastic expression. She calls male society cowards. Because, they want to
wage war to whom, are not equal in power to them. So, it is huge unjust of male society.
In the last stanza, she tries to understand the male society that, their writings are not
worthless and valueless. If they think so, then they should acknowledge their works and
make a sit for them beside their work. Because, their unrefined works cannot dim their
worth rather it will shine like glistering gold.
Thus, Anne Bradstreet uses polite tone to criticize the male world. But, she is quite
successful in her campaign. Because, she draws the attention of the reader by using
sarcastic and ironic expression.
 The Author to her Book– Anne Bradstreet

Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,

Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge, 5
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight; 10
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet, 15
Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save homespun cloth i' th' house I find.
In this array 'mongst vulgars may'st thou roam.
In critic's hands beware thou dost not come, 20
And take thy way where yet though art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.

Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 18th, 1666

Anne Bradstreet
Here follows some verses upon the burning
of our house, July 18th. 1666.

In silent night when rest I took,

For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken’d was with thund’ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of “fire” and “fire,” 5
Let no man know is my desire.

I, starting up, the light did spy,

And to my God my heart did cry
To straighten me in my distress
And not to leave me succorless. 10
Then coming out, behold 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: 15
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. 20
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, 25

There lay that store I counted best:
My pleasant things in ashes lie,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under the roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy Table eat a bit.

No pleasant tale shall ‘ere be told,

Nor things recounted done of old.
No candle ‘ere shall shine in thee,
Nor bridegroom‘s voice ere heard shall be.
In silence ever shalt thou lie; 35
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 mould’ring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust? 40
Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
That dunghill mists away may fly.

Thou hast a house on high erect,

 Fram‘d by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished, 45
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. 50
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.

To My Dear and Loving Husband – Anne Bradstreet

IF ever two were one then surely we.

If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife were happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold 5
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor aught but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray. 10
Then while we live, in love let's so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

Upon a Wasp Chilled With Cold - Edward Taylor (1642-1729)

The bear that breathes the northern blast

Did numb, torpedo-like, a wasp
Whose stiffened limbs encramped, lay bathing
In Sol's warm breath and shine as saving,
Which with her hands she chafes and stands 5
Rubbing her legs, shanks, thighs, and hands.
Her pretty toes, and fingers' ends
Nipped with this breath, she out extends
Unto the sun, in great desire
To warm her digits at that fire. 10
Doth hold her temples in this state
Where pulse doth beat, and head doth ache.
Doth turn, and stretch her body small,
Doth comb her velvet capital.
 As if her little brain pan were 15
A volume of choice precepts clear.
As if her satin jacket hot
Contained apothecary's shop
Of nature's receipts, that prevails
To remedy all her sad ails, 20
As if her velvet helmet high
Did turret rationality.
She fans her wing up to the wind
As if her pettycoat were lined,
With reason's fleece, and hoists sails 25
And humming flies in thankful gales
Unto her dun curled palace hall
Her warm thanks offering for all.

Lord, clear my misted sight that I

May hence view Thy divinity, 30
Some sparks whereof thou up dost hasp
Within this little downy wasp
In whose small corporation we
A school and a schoolmaster see,
Where we may learn, and easily find 35
A nimble spirit bravely mind
Her work in every limb: and lace
It up neat with a vital grace,
Acting each part though ne'er so small
Here of this fustian animal. 40
Till I enravished climb into
The Godhead on this ladder do,
Where all my pipes inspired upraise
An heavenly music furred with praise.

1. What is God compared to? List all of the examples of this image and explore the
conclusions can you draw about the Puritan view of God.

2. What is man compared to? List all of the details referring to this image and explore
the conclusions can you draw about the Puritan view of humanity.

3. What is the central conceit of this poem and what is the overall point that Taylor
wants to make about God and humans here? How does the poem’s structure
reinforce that point?
4. This poem creates several metaphors for comparing the wasp and the sun to other
things.  Specifically, the wasp is described as if she were a human.  What human
qualities does Taylor give her?

5. How does Bradstreet’s message reinforce or contradict what you know about
Puritanism?

How is a wasp's head like the minister of a church?

How is the wasp's body like the that church’s congregation? 

How is the sun like God?

How is the wasp like Taylor, himself?

Huswifery - Edward Taylor

Make me, O Lord, thy Spinning Wheele compleate.

     Thy Holy Worde my Distaff make for mee.
Make mine Affections thy Swift Flyers neate,
     And make my Soule thy holy Spoole to bee.
     My Conversation make to be thy Reele 5
     And reele the yarn thereon spun of thy Wheele.
Make me thy Loome then, knit therein this Twine:
     And make thy Holy Spirit, Lord, winde quills:
Then weave the Web thyselfe. The yarn is fine.
     Thine Ordinances make my Fulling Mills. 10
     Then dy the same in Heavenly Colours Choice,
     All pinkt with Varnish't Flowers of Paradise.
Then cloath therewith mine Understanding, Will,
     Affections, Judgment, Conscience, Memory;
My Words and Actions, that their shine may fill 15
     My wayes with glory and thee glorify.
     Then mine apparell shall display before yee
     That I am Cloathd in Holy robes for glory.
Song of the Sky Loom – Tewa

O our Mother the Earth, O our Father the Sky,

Your children are we, and with tired backs
We bring you gifts that you love.
Then weave for us a garment of brightness;
May the warp be the light of the morning, 5
May the weft be the red light of the evening,
May the fringes be the falling rain,
May the border be the standing rainbow.
Thus weave for us a garment of brightness,
That we may walk fittingly where birds sing, 10
That we may walk fittingly where grass is green,
O our Mother the Earth, O our Father the Sky.

Spring Song – Chippewa

As my eyes
Search
The prairie
I feel the summer
In the spring.

From the Houses of Magic – Pima

Down from the houses of magic,

Down from the houses of magic;
Blow the winds, and from my antlers
And my ears, they stronger gather.

Over there I ran trembling, 5

Over there I ran trembling,
For bows and arrows pursued me,
Many bows were on my trail.

I ran into the swamp confused,

There I heard the tadpoles singing 10
I ran into the swamp confused,
Where the bark-clothed tadpoles sang.

In the west the dragonfly wanders,

Skimming the surfaces of the pools,
Touching only with his tail. He skims 15
With flapping and rustling wings.

Thence I ran as the darkness gathers,

Wearing cactus flowers in my hair.
Thence I ran as the darkness gathers,
In fluttering darkness to the singing-place. 20

At the time of the white dawning,

At the time of the white dawning,
I arose and went away,
At Blue Nightfall I went away.

The evening glow yet lingers, 25

The evening glow yet lingers:
And I sit with my gourd rattle
Engaged in the sacred chant.
As I wave the eagle feathers
We hear the magic sounding. 30

The strong night is shaking me,

Just as once before he did
When in spirit I was taken
To the great magician’s house.

Pitiable harlot though I am, 35

My heart glows with the singing
While the evening yet is young.
My heart glows with the singing.

Now the swallow begins his singing;

Now the swallow begins his singing; 40
And the women who are with me,
The poor women commence to sing.

The swallows met in the standing cliff;

The swallows met in the standing cliff;
And the rainbows arched above me, 45
There the blue rainbow-arches met.

In the reddish glow of the nightfall,

In the reddish glow of the nightfall.
I return to my burrow
About which the flowers bloom. 50

With the four eagle feathers,

With the four eagle feathers,
I stir the air. When I turn
 My magic power is crossed.

Song Concerning a Dream of the Thunderbirds – Teton Sioux

Friends, behold!
Sacred I have been made.
Friends, behold!
In a sacred manner
I have been influenced
At the gathering of the clouds.
Sacred I have been made,
Friends, behold!
Sacred I have been made.