The “Nature” of Life and Death
Edward Taylor's "Upon Wedlock, And Death of Children" and Anne Bradstreet’s "In Memory of My Dear Grandchild Elizabeth Bradstreet," while similar in context and content, seem to show two differing views of the acceptance of death. Bradstreet's poetry tends to be of a questioning nature, while Taylor seems set in his faith. Bradstreet struggles to understand death, and Taylor seems to have a grasp on its position in life. He, at least, understands it is a necessary part of a cycle, and for any life to be complete, it must be terminated. If Taylor has any anger or resentment towards God for His actions, he does a convincing job of hiding it.

The main differences in the poems are the attitudes of the authors. While Taylor celebrates the cycle of rebirth, the “circle of life,” if you will, Bradstreet focuses on the pain of death and little else. She cannot move past the unnatural loss of a child, and her poem seems almost an attempt to convince herself that she believes in an omnipotent God. While she accepts, at least outwardly, that God has done what He must (and that He has reason for his actions), she seems bitter about her loss.

Both Taylor and Bradstreet focus on nature imagery: in particular, they use the blooming and withering of flowers to symbolize, respectively, the emergence of life and eventuality of death. In nature, as in religion, some things are inevitable… and some things mankind has no control over. So when Bradstreet and Taylor are addressing nature, they are actually addressing the immutable will of God and the unstoppable march of time.

Bradstreet’s poem, though concise, should not be taken lightly. She expresses her emotions toward Elizabeth’s death by likening her to a “fair flower” (Bradstreet 210). Her use of natural imagery is effective, as it plays on the sentiments of the reader. Typically, flowers bring to mind beauty and purity, and Bradstreet is clearly trying to make the link between Elizabeth and those ideals. To her, it is important that the reader knows Elizabeth’s life was one of innocence.

However, Bradstreet does not stop with simply implying a connection. She expands upon her nature imagery by calling Elizabeth a “bud”: a term with denotes not only her youth, but her innocence (Bradstreet 210). In the same way that buds have not yet opened, Elizabeth’s life has not been fully lived, and thus, she has not had the opportunity to sin. Bradstreet seems to be saying this partially to convince herself that Elizabeth has gone to heaven.

Understood in an emotional way, this poem could be Bradstreet’s way of dealing with the inevitable shock that often comes after death. In a society where women were repressed, and events were assumed to be the will of God, Bradstreet coped in whatever way she could. While her motives aren’t quite clear, one can imagine her battle with accepting the loss of a grandchild: especially one so young.

While a simple look at Bradstreet’s poem shows a struggle to accept death, a more in depth analysis proves that the issue of death is much more complex. One can hardly address it without considering its religious context, and Bradstreet’s poem is a good example of this conundrum. She asks why she should “bewail [Elizabeth’s] fate,” something that Puritan society would frown upon (Bradstreet 210). Yet she does just that; she questions. Bradstreet, in a subtle way, rebels against the idea that God knows best. She steps outside of her accepted social boundaries.

Bradstreet’s Puritan upbringing programmed her to believe that God has a reason for his actions, but she can’t accept it face value. The death of a grandchild has upset her and has led her to question the nature of God. In this way, Bradstreet’s work shows quite a departure from the strict, often cold work of earlier Puritan writers. As Avery Fischer says, “One of Bradstreet's major questions […] seems to be this: How does one understand a God with whom questions are unwelcome, and with whom reasoning is fruitless?” (1). To me, Bradstreet seems to be asking something a bit different. How does one understand death outside of God?

Edward Taylor takes a good stab at answering Fischer’s question; he does it in a way that Bradstreet could not. Like any good Puritan, Taylor accepts death as a natural, normal phenomenon. Instead of focusing entirely on the tragedy of a child passing, he broadens the scope through which the reader views death. He includes stanzas on marriage and life. Where Bradstreet addresses only one death, Taylor culminates the lives of all of his children in one poem, and takes his time in doing so. “Upon Wedlock and the Death of Children” tells a story, and it’s a tragic one.

Though the poem is written in first person, Taylor recedes into metaphor, giving the reader the impression that the writer himself is outside of the situation. This could be Taylor’s own way of escaping from the reality of death. For the purpose of the poem, he refers to his children in terms of various flowers, particularly “primrose, cowslips, roses, lilies.” [cite] Taylor speaks liberally of a “knot”: a term that undergoes a change in meaning as the poem progresses. To begin with, it is symbolic of Taylor’s marriage. In the first stanza, he refers to his union as a “True-Love Knot” (Taylor). He says that his marriage is strong, and that he and his wife cannot be separated. However, as we see later, this is not the case with his children.

As we read on, Taylor implies that his flowers (children) are part of another kind of “knot”: a garden that God has planted (Simmons 1). The knot seems to be symbolic not only of Taylor’s life, but of the events that occur within it; the knot is place, person, and action. When Taylor says his “branch” (which, in this line, is meant to be taken his wife –another implication of their connection to one another) “did knot,” he is referring to the birth of their first child. Later, he uses the same terminology to indicate more births, two of which are quickly “cropped” by the hand of God (Taylor). While some plants take root and grow, others are torn away.

Here, it’s interesting to note that Taylor appears to view himself as a tree: an appropriate metaphor in itself, in that he feels he needs to watch over his children, much in the way that God is watching over him (Halbert 1). In another light, Taylor’s tree-like being could indicate a sense of detachment from the tragic events that would naturally ground him. This is not to say that Taylor feels no grief. Taylor refers to the death of one of his children as a “dolesome, darksome houre.” Clearly, he did feel remorse at the loss of his child, but he didn’t let that pain linger because he knew there was a higher purpose for the event. In the final stanza, he says that he would have grieved longer if he did not know that the deaths were God’s will.

This is where we see the main difference between his accession to Puritan dogma and Bradstreet’s digression from it. Instead of rebelling from the norms, Taylor finds comfort in his religion, particularly in the sovereignty of God. In Taylor’s mind, though they were his children, the hand of God marked them for His own plan. God created the flowers, and he could rightfully take them away at any moment. Because Taylor exists in this metaphorical garden, with God as the gardener, he has no control over the outside forces. Taylor doesn’t seem himself as helpless, though. He rejoices in the fact that he is being watched over; he thanks God for taking a hand in his life and for tending his garden. In the end, this garden, and in fact, these knots, are only earthly concerns. After all, his true happiness lies beyond the world.

Death, in simple terms, is not a material affair. Still, in the harsh society of early America, it was inevitable, and perhaps this is why both Bradstreet and Taylor felt compelled to delve into their deep, emotional, and human reactions to it. These poems reflect on the innate need of humans to find answers, whether they be of the soul or the body. Both authors use nature as a means of expressing their pain, but they do so in thoroughly different ways. In the end, Taylor seems more comfortable with the idea of death and its religious connections, finally settling into the mantra that God has a plan. Bradstreet, in contrast, drifts between certainty and interrogation, unsure as to what she believes or how to express it. As befuddled as she is, she draws upon the simplicity of her emotions to ask some very difficult questions. Taylor, in turn, takes those questions and answers them.