I. Adieu, New-England’s smiling meads, Adieu, th’ flow’ry plain: I leave thine op’ning charms, O spring, And tempt the roaring main. II. In vain for me the flow’rets rise, And boas…
Phillis Wheatley was the first published African American poet and first African-American woman whose writings helped create the genre of African American literature.
Phillis Wheatley şiirleri
I. ADIEU, New-England's smiling meads, Adieu, the flow'ry plain: I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring,…
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg'd he sees unnumber'd systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole,…
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg'd he sees unnumber'd systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole,…
New England first a wilderness was found Till for a continent 'twas destin'd round From feild to feild the savage monsters run E'r yet Brittania had her work begun…
The poet asks, and Phillis can't refuse To show th' obedience of the Infant muse. She knows the Quail of most inviting taste Fed Israel's army in the dreary waste;…
The poet asks, and Phillis can't refuse To show th' obedience of the Infant muse. She knows the Quail of most inviting taste Fed Israel's army in the dreary waste;…
I. Lo! for this dark terrestrial ball Forsakes his azure-paved hall…
I. LO! for this dark terrestrial ball Forsakes his azure-paved hall…
SOON as the sun forsook the eastern main The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain; Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing, Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.…
ATTEND my lays, ye ever honour'd nine, Assist my labours, and my strains refine; In smoothest numbers pour the notes along, For bright Aurora now demands my song.…
I. A bird delicious to the taste, On which an army once did feast,…
Muse! Muse! where shall I begin the spacious feild To tell what curses unbeleif doth yeild? Thou who dost daily feel his hand, and rod Darest thou deny the Essence of a God! --…
Must Ethiopians be employ'd for you? Much I rejoice if any good I do. I ask O unbeleiver, Satan's child Hath not thy Saviour been too much revil'd…
SAMUEL, Chap. xvii. YE martial pow'rs, and all ye tuneful nine, Inspire my song, and aid my high design.…
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