A selection of poems by Phillis Wheatley Peters

By Jazmyne Corker, NYS Writers Institute intern

Whenever I scroll through the shelves in a bookstore, it has become a sort of routine that every

few months I pick up a book relating to history.

History offers us a chance to expand our knowledge, understanding, and perspective beyond our own world. It speaks of great strength, courage, and hope in a time that requires such virtues.Whether it's an accurate account or historical fiction, I find myself curious about the lives of those who lived before us and how they overcame the major obstacles they were confronted with.

There are a few historical figures I learned about in high school that have left a lasting

impression on me. Frederick Douglass, an enslaved man who taught himself how to read and write. Harriet Tubman, who secretly led countless enslaved people to freedom, just to name a few. However, after exploring more influential figures of American history, there is another name I wish was included in our curriculum: Phillis Wheatley Peters, the first African American woman to publish a book of poetry.

Phillis Wheatley (1753—1784) was born in Gambia, West Africa. She was captured, enslaved, and brought to Boston in 1761. Phillis was sold to the Wheatley family, who eventually taught her how to read and write. Soon she found herself mesmerized by history, geography, the Bible, and British literature.

In 1773, she published her first collection of poems, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral. Various reputable men, including John Hancock, were required to sign off on her work to prove that her work was in fact written by a black woman. According to Poetryfoundation.org, Wheatley’s work explores a wide range of topics such as the American Revolution, slavery, religion, and the celebration of early America. Her poetry was beloved by all Americans alike, putting on display the intellect and literary

prowess of an African American woman during a time of slavery, racism and discrimination.

When I first read Wheatley’s work, I was captivated both by the rhythm of her poetry and

its classical style. Through the careful crafting of her words, she managed to reveal rays of hope in

situations that would otherwise be met with despair. It’s no wonder she was able to garner such

positive attention from the American people.

On Thursday, November 14, the NYS Writers Institute will host a discussion on the life and works of Phillis Wheatley. Joining the conversation will be:

David Waldstreicher is author of The Odyssey of Phillis Wheatley: A Poet’s Journeys Through American Slavery and Independence, a New York Times Notable Book and finalist for the Los

Angeles Times Book Prize for biography.

Wendy Roberts is a UAlbany English Professor and an Early American Literature scholar who rediscovered Wheatley’s full-length version of “On the Death of Love Rotch.”

Cassandra L. Smith, an English Professor at the University of Alabama, is author of Black Africans in the British Imagination: English Narratives of the Early Atlantic World, among other works that explore historical figures.

A Celebration of Phillis Wheatley Peters 

4:30 p.m. Thursday, November 14

University at Albany

Multipurpose Room - Campus Center West

1400 Washington Avenue

Albany NY 12222

Free and open to the public

On Being Brought from Africa to America

By Phillis Wheatley Peters

'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,

Taught my benighted soul to understand

That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:

Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.

Some view our sable race with scornful eye,

"Their colour is a diabolic die."

Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,

May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.

In the following poem, "On Virtue," I'm amazed by how she artfully paints a picture of the value of wisdom and how unfathomable it is. Although wisdom seems unattainable, Wheatley gives virtue characteristics of a gentle comforter, to say that so long as we try to live virtuously, we will be led to a better place. Wheatley instills hope to the hopeless.

On Virtue

By Phillis Wheatley Peters

O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive

To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare

Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.

I cease to wonder, and no more attempt

Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound.

But, O my soul, sink not into despair,

Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand

Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.

Fain would the heaven-born soul with her converse,

Then seek, then court her for her promised bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heavenly pinions spread,

And lead celestial Chastity along;

Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,

Arrayed in glory from the orbs above.

Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!

O leave me not to the false joys of time!

But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.

Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,

To give an higher appellation still,

Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,

O Thou, enthroned with Cherubs in the realms of day!

Copyright Credit: Phillis Wheatley, “On Virtue” from Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (London: by A. Bell, for Cox and Berry, Boston, 1773).

On Imagination

By Phillis Wheatley Peters

Thy various works, imperial queen, we see,

    How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee!

Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand,

And all attest how potent is thine hand.

    From Helicon's refulgent heights attend,

Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend:

To tell her glories with a faithful tongue,

Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song.

    Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies,

Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes,

Whose silken fetters all the senses bind,

And soft captivity involves the mind.

    Imagination! who can sing thy force?

Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?

Soaring through air to find the bright abode,

Th' empyreal palace of the thund'ring God,

We on thy pinions can surpass the wind,

And leave the rolling universe behind:

From star to star the mental optics rove,

Measure the skies, and range the realms above.

There in one view we grasp the mighty whole,

Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.

Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes

The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise;

The frozen deeps may break their iron bands,

And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands.

Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign,

And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain;

Sylvanus may diffuse his honours round,

And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd:

Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose,

And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose.

    Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain,

O thou the leader of the mental train:

In full perfection all thy works are wrought,

And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought.

Before thy throne the subject-passions bow,

Of subject-passions sov'reign ruler thou;

At thy command joy rushes on the heart,

And through the glowing veins the spirits dart.

    Fancy might now her silken pinions try

To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high:

From Tithon's bed now might Aurora rise,

Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies,

While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies.

The monarch of the day I might behold,

And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold,

But I reluctant leave the pleasing views,

Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse;

Winter austere forbids me to aspire,

And northern tempests damp the rising fire;

They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea,

Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.

Source: Poems on Various Subjects Religious and Moral (1773)