Author: Phillis Wheatley

WHERE contemplation finds her sacred spring, Where heav’nly music makes the arches ring, Where virtue reigns unsully’d and divine, Where […]

Say, heav’nly muse, what king or mighty God, That moves sublime from Idumea’s road? In Bosrah’s dies, with martial glories […]

All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow’r, Hope’s tow’ring plumage falls to rise no more! Of scenes terrestrial how the glories […]

Though thou did’st hear the tempest from afar, And felt’st the horrors of the wat’ry war, To me unknown, yet […]

Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, […]

On Mrs. W -‘s Voyage to England. I. WHILE raging tempests shake the shore, While AElus’ thunders round us roar, […]

ATTEND my lays, ye ever honour’d nine, Assist my labours, and my strains refine; In smoothest numbers pour the notes […]

I. A BIRD delicious to the taste, On which an army once did feast, Sent by an hand unseen; A […]

On Death’s domain intent I fix my eyes, Where human nature in vast ruin lies, With pensive mind I search […]

‘Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, Taught my benighted soul to understand That there’s a God, that there’s […]

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare Wisdom is higher than […]

WHILE an intrinsic ardor prompts to write, The muses promise to assist my pen; ‘Twas not long since I left […]

Indulgent muse! my grov’ling mind inspire, And fill my bosom with celestial fire. See from Jamaica’s fervid shore she moves, […]

SAMUEL, Chap. xvii. YE martial pow’rs, and all ye tuneful nine, Inspire my song, and aid my high design. The […]

YOUR subjects hope, dread Sire The crown upon your brows may flourish long, And that your arm may in your […]

HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: The northern clime beneath her genial […]

MNEME begin. Inspire, ye sacred nine, Your vent’rous Afric in her great design. Mneme, immortal pow’r, I trace thy spring: […]

Ere yet the morn its lovely blushes spread, See Sewell number’d with the happy dead. Hail, holy man, arriv’d th’ […]

Mæcenas, you, beneath the myrtle shade, Read o’er what poets sung, and shepherds play’d. What felt those poets but you […]

Thy various works, imperial queen, we see, How bright their forms! how deck’d with pomp by thee! Thy wond’rous acts […]