I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
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.
Anne Bradstreet
Anne Bradstreet died on this date in 1672. She was a badass mama and the first published American poet.
(via thelifeguardlibrarian)
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