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1753–1784

ON VIRTUE.

Phillis Wheatley

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 heav'n-born soul with her converse, Then seek, then court her for her promis'd bliss. Auspicious queen, thine heav'nly pinions spread, And lead celestial Chastity along;

Lo! now her sacred retinue descends, Array'd 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 me an higher appellation still, Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,

O thou, enthron'd with Cherubs in the realms of day.

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ON VIRTUE. · Phillis Wheatley · Poetry Cove