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A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months
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7.6
/10
(13
votes)
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THROUGH airy roads he wings his instant flight
To purer regions of celestial light;
Enlarg'd he sees unnumber'd systems roll,
Beneath him sees the universal whole,
Planets on planets run their destin'd round,
And circling wonders fill the vast profound.
Th' ethereal now, and now th' empyreal skies
With growing splendors strike his wond'ring eyes:
The angels view him with delight unknown,
Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne;
Then smilling thus: "To this divine abode,
"The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God,
"Thrice welcome thou." The raptur'd babe replies,
"Thanks to my God, who snatch'd me to the skies,
"E'er vice triumphant had possess'd my heart,
"E'er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart,
"E'er yet on sin's base actions I was bent,
"E'er yet I knew temptation's dire intent;
"E'er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt,
"E'er vanity had led my way to guilt,
"But, soon arriv'd at my celestial goal,
"Full glories rush on my expanding soul."
Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round
Clapt their glad wings, the heav'nly vaults resound.
Say, parents, why this unavailing moan?
Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan?
To Charles, the happy subject of my song,
A brighter world, and nobler strains belong.
Say would you tear him from the realms above
By thoughtless wishes, and prepost'rous love?
Doth his felicity increase your pain?
Or could you welcome to this world again
The heir of bliss? with a superior air
Methinks he answers with a smile severe,
"Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there."
But still you cry, "Can we the sigh borbear,
"And still and still must we not pour the tear?
"Our only hope, more dear than vital breath,
"Twelve moons revolv'd, becomes the prey of death;
"Delightful infant, nightly visions give
"Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive,
"We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast,
"The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest."
To yon bright regions let your faith ascend,
Prepare to join your dearest infant friend
In pleasures without measure, without end.
Phillis Wheatley
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Read poems about / on: thanks, faith, funeral, happy, friend, smile, song, joy, god, world, hope, pain, death, poem, light, heart, angel, running, sky
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Comments about this poem (A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months
by
Phillis Wheatley
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Phillis Wheatley
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Lorina Zapata
(8/17/2009 3:16:00 PM) |
Kevin, I understand where your coming from in regards to this poem however, the poem is very escoteric. I say this because only a true and unwavering spiritual person will truly understand the significance of this poem and where Phillis Wheatley is coming from. The poem isn't chastising the parents grief as 'preposterous' directly, instead P.W. is chastising the reasoning behind the grief which I believe she views as selfish and hypocritical for the 'spiritual' parents. I know this may sound harsh but it really isn't...let me explain. If a person is truly spiritual and believes in God (for example) and believes that a person will spend eternal life in heaven after he or she passes...then there is nothing to fear or grieve over when faced with the time of our passing because a better place will be waiting for us in the end right? Instead the spiritual person should either be in peace when faced with death or be rejoicing in their loved ones death because they know he or she have gone on to this better place. (According to a spiritual person) . However, this isn't to say that sadness isn't justified and that tears shouldn't be shed, however, death shouldn't impede on a person's life or cause them to grieve to the point where it becomes more about appeasing their own dispair and self pity for their loss then it is about losing a loved one which from what I understand of P.W.'s poem is selfish. In this case, the infant is clearly in heaven with all the beauty and wonder that heaven has bestwoed and instead of rejoicing that their child is in a wonderous place that they supposedly believe exists, then it is hypocritical to wish the child back to a world that although is still beautiful at times, is also filled with pain, suffering. In this poem, the child will never have to suffer this nor be tempted by the evils of the world and because of this P.W. expresses that to llive in despair over the loss of this child is preposterous because the child is now in heaven and according to the spiritual person the parents will see their child one day again. Personally, if I have understood the poem correctly, I feel it's ingenious work. It's also very poignant especially for those who claim to be spiritual yet fear losing things in their lives when their faith should be strong enough for them to know better. I think it's a FANTASTIC poem!
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Ravi A
(8/17/2009 1:57:00 PM) |
I don't know about the philosophy of the poetess but I can see that it is much deeper than what we can think of. She sees the death not from our mortal level but from a different, spiritual level. It requires a good mental composure and deep insight of the philosophy of life. She touches various planes of Indian philosophy regarding birth and re-birth, the pains of life etc. The phrase decribing the parents' grief as 'prepost'rous love' need not be taken as a comment of a hard hearted person. She only says that both grief and happiness are transitory in nature and then, why should one cry at the material loss. Such philosophy may seem to be so dry for ordinary mortals like us.
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Kevin Straw
(8/17/2009 5:38:00 AM) |
I dislike this poem heartily. It seems to me nothing but wish-fulfilling fantasy. The pain that one feels at the death of an enfant is not whit assuaged by this kind of guff. The phrase decribing the parents' grief as 'prepost'rous love' says it all.
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