Death Poems: A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months - Poem by Phillis Wheatley

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A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months - Poem by Phillis Wheatley

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.


Comments about A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months by Phillis Wheatley

  • Rookie yoo mom (2/5/2020 10:36:00 AM)

    this poem sucks very much! ! ! ! ! ! (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 15,796 Points Adeeb Alfateh (10/11/2019 12:08:00 AM)

    Thanks to my God, who '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,

    o great, great write
    great 10+++++
    (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 21,957 Points Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black (8/17/2014 12:57:00 PM)

    Beautifully written so soulfully sad and profound.. (Report) Reply

    Rookie jasmine (6/21/2018 6:14:00 PM)

    that is so true

    | Delete this reply
    8 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Veteran Poet - 1,393 Points Pius Didier (8/17/2014 10:11:00 AM)

    Lorina, your idea rhyms with what is in my mind, as a poet we focus things with a very different ideas and our thoughts contrast the first hand reality. to critize it i darely see the need to mourn.try to analyse my poem stay away from my grave...it will tell you of hypocrisy which befalls the beneficiaries. As a poet, i disagree with the fact that one should be buried on an expensive coffin, while those left go starving. Kevin you can also have a look at it (Report) Reply

    8 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 5,586 Points Babatunde Aremu (8/17/2013 8:26:00 PM)

    This poem encouraged me a lot. It comes my way the right time as mum has just transited. great poem (Report) Reply

    11 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 79 Points Suvro Bhattacharya (8/17/2012 6:18:00 PM)

    WONDERFUL!
    Have an inner strength!
    (Report) Reply

    11 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
  • Rookie Kevin Straw (8/17/2012 10:07:00 AM)

    What utter balderdash! This is sheer fantasy - there is not the tiniest bit of evidence of any of it. The idea that parents should not weep because of the death of their child is baloney. We all know in our heart of hearts that when someone dies that is the end of them, that is why we mourn. If we really believed in Wheatley's silly myth then we would indeed be wrong in mourning. Contrast this with the recent Catullus poem. Who is right Wheatley or Catullus? (Report) Reply

    11 person liked.
    28 person did not like.
  • Freshman - 921 Points Abraham Gbenga (8/17/2012 7:29:00 AM)

    I love you the poem because it help the other poet to improve in composing poems. (Report) Reply

    9 person liked.
    9 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 354 Points Sidi Mahtrow (8/17/2011 3:26:00 PM)

    Love takes many forms.
    Those who suffer loss of a dear one
    And can express it in prose or poetry
    Come closest to sharing their grief
    Making us all reflect on someone
    That had a place in our hearts and is
    Now with us in spirit but not body.

    s
    (Report) Reply

    16 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Silver Star - 4,291 Points Juan Olivarez (8/17/2011 2:46:00 PM)

    The eternal pessimist must ever find something vile to say about anything. If you can't say something good then shuteth uppeth. (Report) Reply

    16 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
Read all 17 comments »
Death Poems
  1. 1. Let Me Die A Youngman's Death
    Roger McGough
  2. 2. And Death Shall Have No Dominion
    Dylan Thomas
  3. 3. Death Is Nothing At All
    Henry Scott Holland
  4. 4. Death Be Not Proud
    John Donne
  5. 5. Because I Could Not Stop For Death
    Emily Dickinson
  6. 6. Nothing But Death
    Pablo Neruda
  7. 7. A Dream Of Death
    William Butler Yeats
  8. 8. A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, O..
    Dylan Thomas
  9. 9. Father Death Blues
    Allen Ginsberg
  10. 10. A Poet's Death Is His Life Iv
    Khalil Gibran
  11. 11. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death
    William Butler Yeats
  12. 12. Death Wants More Death
    Charles Bukowski
  13. 13. The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner
    Randall Jarrell
  14. 14. Death
    Rainer Maria Rilke
  15. 15. A Death Blow Is A Life Blow To Some
    Emily Dickinson
  16. 16. Death Xxvii
    Khalil Gibran
  17. 17. The Beauty Of Death Xiv
    Khalil Gibran
  18. 18. A City's Death By Fire
    Derek Walcott
  19. 19. Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud
    John Donne
  20. 20. Gacela Of The Dark Death
    Federico García Lorca
  21. 21. After Death
    Sara Teasdale
  22. 22. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind
    Emily Dickinson
  23. 23. A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An ..
    Phillis Wheatley
  24. 24. A Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed
    Elizabeth Barrett Browning
  25. 25. First Death In Nova Scotia
    Elizabeth Bishop
  26. 26. On The Death Of A Young Lady Of Five Yea..
    Phillis Wheatley
  27. 27. A Ballad Of Death
    Algernon Charles Swinburne
  28. 28. Go Down, Death
    James Weldon Johnson
  29. 29. The Death Of Joy Gardner
    Benjamin Zephaniah
  30. 30. I Have A Rendezvous With Death
    Alan Seeger
  31. 31. The Death Of The Hired Man
    Robert Frost
  32. 32. Death Fugue
    Paul Celan
  33. 33. Death &Amp; Fame
    Allen Ginsberg
  34. 34. On Death
    Anne Killigrew
  35. 35. Love &Amp; Fame &Amp; Death
    Charles Bukowski
  36. 36. On The Death Of Anne Brontë
    Charlotte Brontë
  37. 37. If Death Is Kind
    Sara Teasdale
  38. 38. For The Anniversary Of My Death
    William Stanley Merwin
  39. 39. Fugue Of Death
    Paul Celan
  40. 40. On The Death Of That Most Excellent Lady,
    Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
  41. 41. A Satirical Elegy On The Death Of A Late..
    Jonathan Swift
  42. 42. Death
    Heinrich Heine
  43. 43. As At Thy Portals Also Death
    Walt Whitman
  44. 44. Death Stands Above Me, Whispering Low
    Walter Savage Landor
  45. 45. An Elegy On The Death Of Kenneth Patchen
    Lawrence Ferlinghetti
  46. 46. On Hearing Of A Death
    Rainer Maria Rilke
  47. 47. A Death-Bed
    Rudyard Kipling
  48. 48. Absence Disembodies—so Does Death
    Emily Dickinson
  49. 49. On The Death Of A Youn Gentleman
    Phillis Wheatley
  50. 50. All But Death, Can Be Adjusted
    Emily Dickinson

Death Poems

  1. Death Be Not Proud

    Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then? One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

  2. Let Me Die A Youngman's Death

    Let me die a youngman's death not a clean and inbetween the sheets holywater death not a famous-last-words peaceful out of breath death When I'm 73 and in constant good tumour may I be mown down at dawn by a bright red sports car on my way home from an allnight party Or when I'm 91 with silver hair and sitting in a barber's chair may rival gangsters with hamfisted tommyguns burst in and give me a short back and insides Or when I'm 104 and banned from the Cavern may my mistress catching me in bed with her daughter and fearing for her son cut me up into little pieces and throw away every piece but one Let me die a youngman's death not a free from sin tiptoe in candle wax and waning death not a curtains drawn by angels borne 'what a nice way to go' death

  3. And Death Shall Have No Dominion

    And death shall have no dominion. Dead man naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion. Under the windings of the sea They lying long shall not die windily; Twisting on racks when sinews give way, Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break; Faith in their hands shall snap in two, And the unicorn evils run them through; Split all ends up they shan't crack; And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion. No more may gulls cry at their ears Or waves break loud on the seashores; Where blew a flower may a flower no more Lift its head to the blows of the rain; Though they be mad and dead as nails, Heads of the characters hammer through daisies; Break in the sun till the sun breaks down, And death shall have no dominion.

  4. Because I Could Not Stop For Death

    Because I could not stop for Death- He kindly stopped for me- The Carriage held but just Ourselves- And Immortality. We slowly drove- He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility- We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess- in the Ring- We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain- We passed the Setting Sun- Or rather- He passed us- The Dews drew quivering and chill- For only Gossamer, my Gown- My Tippet- only Tulle- We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground- The Roof was scarcely visible- The Cornice- in the Ground- Since then- 'tis Centuries- and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity-

  5. Death Is Nothing At All

    Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect. Without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was. There is absolute unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you. For an interval. Somewhere. Very near. Just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is past; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before only better, infinitely happier and forever we will all be one together with Christ.

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