Baquaqua : Afro-Diasporic Text Corpus

Phillis Wheatley 1784

FAREWEL! ye friendly bowers, ye streams adieu,
I leave with sorrow each sequestered seat :
The lawns , where oft I swept the morning dew,
The groves, from noon-tide rats a kind retreat.
Yon wood-crowned hill, whose far projecting shade,
Inverted trembles in the limpid lake :
Where wrapt in thought I pensively have strayed,
For crowds and noise, reluctant, I forsake.
The solemn pines, that, winding through the vale,
Ingrateful rows attract the wandering eye,
Where the soft ring-dove pours her soothing tale,
No more must veil me from the fervid sky.
Beneath yon aged oak’s projecting arms,
Oft-times beside the pebbled brook I lay;
Where, pleased with simple Nature’s various charms,
I passed in grateful solitude the day.
Rapt with the melody of Cynthio’s strain,
There first my bosom felt poetic flame;
Mute was the bleating language of the plain,
And with his lays the wanton fawns grew tame.
But, ah! those pleasing hours are ever flown:
Ye scenes of transport from my thoughts retire;
Those rural joys no more the day shall crown,
No more my hand shall wake warbling lyre.
But come, sweet Hope, from thy divine retreat,
Come to my breast, and chase my cares away,
Bring calm Content to gild my gloomy seat,
And cheer my bosom with her heavenly ray.

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Original Published in London Arminian Magazine, July 1784 pp. 395-96

Genre: Poetry
Language : English
Meter: Iambic Pentamer