Anne Bradstreet

Being a fan of poetry, I can spot a great piece of literary work, and I can truly say that Anne Bradstreet's poem The Author to Her Book is a great piece of literary work. This poem, like most of her work, is about her and her family, which she wrote during the times her husband, Governor Simon Bradstreet, was away on political duties (annebradstreet.com). She married him at the age of 16 after her parents, Thomas Dudley and Dorothy Yorke, took him in when his father died while they were living in Northampton, where Anne Bradstreet was born in 1612 (annebradstreet.com). She soon moved to the colonies in 1630, where her husband, father and his friend, John Winthrop, established a government in Boston (annebradstreet.com).
But instead of this being about her family this is about how she got her start. In this poem she makes great use of metaphors, syntax and diction. The first sign of this is when she calls her work an "ill-formed offspring of my feeble mind". Here she is referring to her work as one of her children, whom she has great love for and though she has vast knowledge (annebradstreet.com) she remains humble and calls it feeble, which would be wise since it was frowned upon for women to pursue intellectual endeavors, and publicly broadcast their opinions. She then says " 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". Here she talks about how she never meant for to be seen by public eyes for it was written for family and personal friends, until her brother-in-law, John Woodridge, had it published in England, though it wasn't perfected (annebradstreet.com). Her next couple of lines say "at thy return by 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". Here she talks about when she got a copy of the published edition and how she despised looking at it with its imperfection.. She then says " yet being my 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" and " in better dress to trim thee was my mind, but nought save homespun cloth I th' house I find". Here she tells of how since the work was hers, she tried making it better and perfecting it, but it never came out quite perfect.
As I said, this is a great piece of literary work, with excellent use of metaphors, syntax, and diction. She has a great and brilliant mind and it’s a shame she had to stifle her creativity from the world due to the restrictions placed on women. I find it a true pleasure to be able to read her work.