Page:Memoir and poems of Phillis Wheatley, a native African and a slave.djvu/140

134 Away with an angelic smile it has gone,

And left a sad parent to weep!

It soars from the ocean of pain,

On breezes of precious perfume;

O be not discouraged when death is but gain—

The triumph of life from the tomb.

With pleasure I thought it my own,

And smil'd on its infantile charms;

But some mystic bird, like an eagle, came down,

And snatch'd it away from my arms.

Blest Babe, it ascends into Heaven,

It mounts with delight at the call;

And flies to the bosom from whence it was given,

The Parent and Patron of all.

Am I sadly cast aside,

On misfortunes's rugged tide?

Will the world my pains deride

Forever?

Must I dwell in Slavery's night,

And all pleasure take its flight,

Far beyond my feeble sight,

Forever?