Analysis of On the Death of J.C. an Infant
Phillis Wheatley 1753 (West Africa) – 1784 (Boston)
No more the flow'ry scenes of pleasure rife,
Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes,
No more with joy we view that lovely face
Smiling, disportive, flush'd with ev'ry grace.
The tear of sorrow flows from ev'ry eye,
Groans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply;
What sudden pangs shot thro' each aching heart,
When, Death, thy messenger dispatch'd his dart?
Thy dread attendants, all-destroying Pow'r,
Hurried the infant to his mortal hour.
Could'st thou unpitying close those radiant eyes?
Or fail'd his artless beauties to surprise?
Could not his innocence thy stroke control,
Thy purpose shake, and soften all thy soul?
The blooming babe, with shades of Death o'erspread,
No more shall smile, no more shall raise its head,
But, like a branch that from the tree is torn,
Falls prostrate, wither'd, languid, and forlorn.
"Where flies my James?" 'tis thus I seem to hear
The parent ask, "Some angel tell me where
"He wings his passage thro' the yielding air?"
Methinks a cherub bending from the skies
Observes the question, and serene replies,
"In heav'ns high palaces your babe appears:
"Prepare to meet him, and dismiss your tears."
Shall not th' intelligence your grief restrain,
And turn the mournful to the cheerful strain?
Cease your complaints, suspend each rising sigh,
Cease to accuse the Ruler of the sky.
Parents, no more indulge the falling tear:
Let Faith to heav'n's refulgent domes repair,
There see your infant, like a seraph glow:
What charms celestial in his numbers flow
Melodious, while the foul-enchanting strain
Dwells on his tongue, and fills th' ethereal plain?
Enough--for ever cease your murm'ring breath;
Not as a foe, but friend converse with Death,
Since to the port of happiness unknown
He brought that treasure which you call your own.
The gift of heav'n intrusted to your hand
Cheerful resign at the divine command:
Not at your bar must sov'reign Wisdom stand.
Scheme | XABB CCDDXXAAEE DXFFXGGAAXXHHCCGGIIHHJJKKLLL |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 110111101 1101010101 1111111101 1011111 011101111 1101011101 1101111101 1111000111 11010101011 10010111010 1111111001 111110101 1111001101 1101010111 010111111 1111111111 1101110111 1101010001 1111111111 0101110111 1111010101 101010101 0101000101 0111001101 0111100111 111101001101 0101010101 1101011101 1101010101 1011010101 11111101 111101011 1101001101 01001010101 1111011101001 011101111 1101111011 1101110001 1111011111 01111111 1001100101 111111101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,872 |
Words | 321 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 10, 28 |
Lines Amount | 42 |
Letters per line (avg) | 36 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 498 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 105 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 30, 2023
- 1:40 min read
- 176 Views
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