Anne Bradstreet writes to her husband, away on government business, and pours out her sense of being halved. She feels physically incomplete—if they are truly one, how can he be somewhere else while she lies at Ipswich? She describes herself as the Earth mourning in black, frozen without her Sun, who has moved to the wintry zodiac sign of Capricorn. She begs him to return, to burn instead in the summer sign of Cancer, where she can feel his warmth again. The mood is deeply tender and yearning. Until he comes back, she finds only brief comfort in looking at their children, living pictures of his face. The poem aches with a lonely love, but also with an intimate certainty that no distance can truly sever their union.
A Letter to Her Husband — Summary
Absent upon Public Employment
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 fridged 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 heart 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 both but one.