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The Poems of Phillis Wheatley

Of things above, and of the future doom,
And what births of the dread world to come.
  From tossing seas I welcome thee to land.
"Resign her, Nereid," 'twas thy God's command.
Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceiv'd,
Again returns, thy fears are all reliev'd :
Thy daughter blooming with superior grace
Again thou see'st, again thine arms embrace ;
O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir,
And what the blessings of maternal care!
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To a Lady and Her Children, on the Death of Her Son and Their Brother
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O'erwhelming sorrow now  demands my song :
From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung.
What flowing tears? What hearts with grief opres't?
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.
In death the friend, the kind companion lies,
And in one death what various comfort dies!
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The Poems of Phillis Wheatley

Th' unhappy mother sees the sanguine rill
Forget to flow, and nature's wheels stand still,
But see from earth his spirit far remov'd, 
And know no grief recals your best-belov'd :
He, upon pinions swifter than the wind,
Has left mortality's sad scenes behind
For joys to this terrestrial state unknown,
And glories richer than the monarch's crown.
Of virtue's steady course the prize behold!
What blissful wonders to his mind unfold!
But of celestial joys I sing in vain:
Attempt not, muse, the too advent'rous strain.
  No more in briny show'rs, ye friends around,
Or bathe his clay, or waste them on the ground :
Still do you weep, still wish for his return?
How cruel thus to wish, and thus to mourn?
No more from him the streams of sorrow pour,
But haste to join him on the heav'nly shore,
On harps of gold to tune immortal lays,
And to your God immortal anthems raise.

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