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
Thy Power, O Liberty, makes strong the weak
And (wond’rous instinct) Ethiopians speak
Sometimes by Simile, a victory’s won
A certain lady had an only son
He grew up daily virtuous as he grew
Fearing his Strength which she undoubted knew
She laid some taxes on her darling son
And would have laid another act there on
Amend your manners I’ll the task remove
Was said with seeming Sympathy and Love
By many Scourges she his goodness try’d
Untill at length the Best of Infants cry’d
He wept, Brittania turn’d a senseless ear
At last awaken’d by maternal fear
Why weeps americus why weeps my Child
Thus spake Brittania, thus benign and mild
My dear mama said he, shall I repeat –
Then Prostrate fell, at her maternal feet
What ails the rebel, great Brittania Cry’d
Indeed said he, you have no cause to Chide
You see each day my fluent tears my food.
Without regard, what no more English blood?
Has length of time drove from our English viens.
The kindred he to Great Brittania deigns?
Tis thus with thee O Brittain keeping down
New English force, thou fear’st his Tyranny and thou didst frown
He weeps afresh to feel this Iron chain
Turn, O Brittania claim thy child again
Riecho Love drive by thy powerful charms
Indolence Slumbering in forgetful arms
See Agenoria diligent imploy’s
Her sons, and thus with rapture she replys
Arise my sons with one consent arise
Lest distant continents with vult’ring eyes
Should charge America with Negligence
They praise Industry but no pride commence
To raise their own Profusion, O Brittain See
By this, New England will increase like thee
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Who Goes With Fergus? by William Butler Yeats
- The Chant of the Indignant of the World by Sunil Sharma
- Owl by Sylvia Plath
- Как не бывает утро без рассвета
- Омар Хайям – Моя любовь к тебе достигла совершенства
- Владимир Корнилов – Жара
- Visor’d. by Walt Whitman
- There Are A Hundred Kinds Of Prayer (Quatrain in Farsi with English Translation) by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Violet Beauregarde… by Roald Dahl
- Legacy by Vinko Kalinić
- Владимир Маяковский – Враги хлеба
- A Poem Of Love by Walter William Safar
- Epistle to Mrs. Scott of Wauchope House by Robert Burns
- Epistles to Several Persons: Epistle IV, To Richard Boyle, poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- At Mass by Vachel Lindsay
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
Phillis Wheatley (1753-84), a negro poetess, also an American poet or Afro-American poet, and an English Colonial poet, . She was born in Africa (in Gambia or Senegal) and was aptured by slave traders at the age of eight, she was sold to a family living in Boston, Mass., whose name she bears. While serving as a maid-servant to her proprietor’s wife, she showed an unusual facility with languages. She began writing poetry at the age of thirteen, using as models British poets of the time, especially Alexander Pope and Thomas Gray). In 1773 she accompanied a member of the Wheatley family to England, where she gained widespread attention in literary circles. She subsequently returned to Boston. Her best-known poems are “To the University of Cambridge in New England” (1767), In all honestly Phillis Wheatley should rather be considered English than an Afro-American poet but the exact classification of who she was would depend on the political and cultural views, and biases, of the “classifier.