Poems by Phillis Wheatley

All Poems Original Poems Translations

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To Mrs Leonard on The Death of Her Husband

GRIM Monarch! see depriv'd of vital breath,

A young Physician in the dust of death!

Dost thou go on incessant to destroy:

The grief to double, and impair the joy?

Enough thou never yet wast known to say,

Tho' millions die thy mandate to obey.

Nor youth, nor science nor the charms of love,

Nor aught on earth thy rocky heart can move.

by Phillis Wheatley

To His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor

All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow'r,

Hope's tow'ring plumage falls to rise no more!

Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly,

Forget their splendors, and submit to die!

Who ere escap'd thee, but the saint of old

Beyond the flood in sacred annals told,

And the great sage, whom fiery coursers drew

To heav'n's bright portals from Elisha's view;

by Phillis Wheatley

To a Gentleman on His Voyage to Great-Britain

While others chant of gay Elysian scenes,

Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow'ry plains,

My song more happy speaks a greater name,

Feels higher motives and a nobler flame.

For thee, O R——-, the muse attunes her strings,

And mounts sublime above inferior things.

I sing not now of green embow'ring woods,

I sing not now the daughters of the floods,

by Phillis Wheatley

To the Honourable TH Esq on the Death of His Daughter

While deep you mourn beneath the cypress-shade

The hand of Death, and your dear daughter laid

In dust, whose absence gives your tears to flow,

And racks your bosom with incessant woe,

Let Recollection take a tender part,

Assuage the raging tortures of your heart,

Still the wild tempest of tumultuous grief,

And pour the heav'nly nectar of relief:

by Phillis Wheatley

To the Rev Dr Thomas Amory

To cultivate in ev'ry noble mind

Habitual grace, and sentiments refin'd,

Thus while you strive to mend the human heart,

Thus while the heav'nly precepts you impart,

O may each bosom catch the sacred fire,

And youthful minds to Virtue's throne aspire!

When God's eternal ways you set in sight,

And Virtue shines in all her native light,

by Phillis Wheatley

To a Lady on the Death of Her Husband

Grim monarch! see, depriv'd of vital breath,

A young physician in the dust of death:

Dost thou go on incessant to destroy,

Our griefs to double, and lay waste our joy?

Enough thou never yet wast known to say,

Though millions die, the vassals of thy sway:

Nor youth, nor science, not the ties of love,

Nor ought on earth thy flinty heart can move.

by Phillis Wheatley

To a Lady and Her Children

O'erwhelming sorrow now demands my song:

From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung.

What flowing tears? What hearts with grief opprest?

What sighs on sighs heave the fond parent's breast?

The brother weeps, the hapless sisters join

Th' increasing woe, and swell the crystal brine;

The poor, who once his gen'rous bounty fed,

Droop, and bewail their benefactor dead.

by Phillis Wheatley

An Hymn To Humanity To S P G Esp;

. I.

LO! for this dark terrestrial ball

Forsakes his azure-paved hall

A prince of heav'nly birth!

Divine Humanity behold,

What wonders rise, what charms unfold

At his descent to earth!

II.

by Phillis Wheatley

To a Lady on Her Coming to North-America

Indulgent muse! my grov'ling mind inspire,

And fill my bosom with celestial fire.

See from Jamaica's fervid shore she moves,

Like the fair mother of the blooming loves,

When from above the Goddess with her hand

Fans the soft breeze, and lights upon the land;

Thus she on Neptune's wat'ry realm reclin'd

Appear'd, and thus invites the ling'ring wind.

by Phillis Wheatley

To a Lady on the Death of Three Relations

We trace the pow'r of Death from tomb to tomb,

And his are all the ages yet to come.

'Tis his to call the planets from on high,

To blacken Phoebus, and dissolve the sky;

His too, when all in his dark realms are hurl'd,

From its firm base to shake the solid world;

His fatal sceptre rules the spacious whole,

And trembling nature rocks from pole to pole.

by Phillis Wheatley

To a Lady on Her Remarkable Preservation

Though thou did'st hear the tempest from afar,

And felt'st the horrors of the wat'ry war,

To me unknown, yet on this peaceful shore

Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar,

And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand

Compell'd they Nereids to usurp the land.

Reluctant rose the daughters of the main,

And slow ascending glided o'er the plain,

by Phillis Wheatley

On the Death of JC an Infant

No more the flow'ry scenes of pleasure rife,

Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes,

No more with joy we view that lovely face

Smiling, disportive, flush'd with ev'ry grace.

The tear of sorrow flows from ev'ry eye,

Groans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply;

What sudden pangs shot thro' each aching heart,

When, Death, thy messenger dispatch'd his dart?

by Phillis Wheatley