Verses upon the Burning of our House
In silent night when rest I took,For sorrow near I did not look,I waken'd was with thund'ring noiseAnd 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 cryTo straighten me in my DistressAnd not to leave me succourless.Then coming out, behold a spaceThe flame consume my dwelling place.And when I could no longer look,I blest his grace 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 bereftBut yet sufficient for us left.When by the Ruins oft I pastMy sorrowing eyes aside did castAnd here and there the places spyWhere oft I sate and long did lie.Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,There lay that store I counted best,My pleasant things in ashes lieAnd them behold no more shall I.Under the roof no guest shall sit,Nor at thy Table eat a bit.No pleasant talk shall 'ere be toldNor things recounted done of old.No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.In silence ever shalt 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 mouldring dust,The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?Raise up thy thoughts above the skyThat dunghill mists away may fly.Thou hast a house on high erectFram'd by that mighty Architect,With glory richly furnishedStands permanent, though this be fled.It's purchased and paid for tooBy 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.
In silent night when rest I took,For sorrow near I did not look,I waken'd was with thund'ring noiseAnd 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 cryTo straighten me in my DistressAnd not to leave me succourless.Then coming out, behold a spaceThe flame consume my dwelling place.And when I could no longer look,I blest his grace 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 bereftBut yet sufficient for us left.When by the Ruins oft I pastMy sorrowing eyes aside did castAnd here and there the places spyWhere oft I sate and long did lie.Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,There lay that store I counted best,My pleasant things in ashes lieAnd them behold no more shall I.Under the roof no guest shall sit,Nor at thy Table eat a bit.No pleasant talk shall 'ere be toldNor things recounted done of old.No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.In silence ever shalt 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 mouldring dust,The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?Raise up thy thoughts above the skyThat dunghill mists away may fly.Thou hast a house on high erectFram'd by that mighty Architect,With glory richly furnishedStands permanent, though this be fled.It's purchased and paid for tooBy 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.
Reflection:
This poem is by Anne Bradstreet’s is about the tragedy of lousing a house in a fire. Many immigrants who came across the sea experience such tragedy because they are unskilled in building there houses which, develops the terrible outcome of lousing everything they love. To be separated from humanize objects that you put in the effort of taking care is hard. This poem reinforces the tragedy by having the speaker is a girl who experiences her feelings of lousing everything. I pick this poem because of these feelings it expresses her feelings in a sad, angry mood. Through this experience of lousing the house can give a new founding strength in the family or it can be the beginning of the end.
Dear Diary:
Today in class we read this poem, it is about a burning house. I almost cried because it reminded me of my sad fate when we first arrive. We had everything set up, a house and everything was going well when our house caught on fire. I couldn't save any of my things, I was grab by my father and we were out in a flash. Everything that I love was burned. We stood outside watching our house fall apart into rubble, we all work so hard but it was gone in minutes. We couldn't do anything to save our beloved home. After the fire, we stayed at my aunt and uncle's house. My uncle is a very nice man and my aunt makes the best cherry pies. I love them both, they are the kindest people I know, they took us in when we needed it. After a while my papa and my uncle started working on a new house. They decided to build it close by in order for us to stay close to them just in case if there was any more trouble. The new house is much bigger and better than before. The reason why everything is going so well is because of our hard work and our prying to God for a new better home than the last one.
-Jane
Essential Question Refleciton:
The Piligrims who have made America there home, seek the American Dream of a happy civilize world where they can live in peace. However, that is a false dream, the American Dream can never happen because it is only a dream. America isn't a peaceful world where you can move right on in and except no trouble. There are always misfortunes happening and when they do you just have to go with the flow. Like when you are attacked by Indians, diseases and lousing your house to a fire. Once these disasters happen, you just have to pick up what you have left and move on but, the American Dream is just a drem where it can never become a reality.
4 comments:
I thought that was an interesting way to tie in your poem. I am sure that was common in early America, especially sense the houses were made of wood and constructed by amateurs. Additionally, just so you know it isn't necessary to relate to each poem by having an identical experience. I would however, suggest that you review your paragraph because it contains a few gramatical errors.
For the first paragraph-ish area, I thought it was really repetative, like you couldn't think of anything else to say other than everything was burned. If you fix that and the OCD stuff than that journal is golden! and the picture is shining! :D
I think it would be a good idea to put your posts in order, it would make a lot more sense. Where is your reflection?
this might help with the order of your blogs...change the dates of the blogs by editing the blogs and clicking on the post options and then make it so the first one you want has the oldest date like the Native American Literature would be the 17th and the Of Plymouth Plantation would be the 16th, etc. Then go to the front of the homepage and go under the Blog Archive and click the little tool icon. If the box with Show oldest posts first is clicked, unclick it. Then save. See if that helps. If not, try having it clicked. Hope that helps! :D Jenn
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