Good morning! Hopefully, you managed to extract yourself from bed at a reasonable time for a Monday.
It was today in 1784 that the poet Phillis Wheatley died. Though she came to North America as an enslaved person, Phillis was well-educated and wrote some extraordinary poetry.
Today, I wanted to share her poem “An Hymn To The Evening.” Yes, there is also “An Hymn To The Morning” but the imagery in the “evening” poem is what really sets my imagination on overdrive. I hope that it will do the same for you!
Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main
The pealing thunder shook the heav’nly plain;
Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr’s wing,
Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.
Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes,
And through the air their mingled music floats.
Through all the heav’ns what beauteous dies are spread!
But the west glories in the deepest red:
So may our breasts with ev’ry virtue glow,
The living temples of our God below!
Fill’d with the praise of him who gives the light,
And draws the sable curtains of the night,
Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind,
At morn to wake more heav’nly, more refin’d;
So shall the labours of the day begin
More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin.
Night’s leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes,“An Hymn To The Evening” by Phillis Wheatly
Then cease, my song, till fair Aurora rise.
Okay, that will do it for now. Have a wonderful day, everyone!