| Phillis Wheatley (1753–1784). Poems on Various Subjects. 1773. | | | | On Virtue |
| | | O THOU bright jewel in my aim I strive | |
| To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare | |
| Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach. | |
| I cease to wonder, and no more attempt | |
| Thine height t’ explore, or fathom thy profound. | 5 |
| But, O my soul, sink not into despair, | |
| Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand | |
| Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head. | |
| Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse, | |
| Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss. | 10 |
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| Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread, | |
| And lead celestial Chastity along; | |
| Lo! now her sacred retinue descends, | |
| Array’d in glory from the orbs above. | |
| Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years! | 15 |
| O leave me not to the false joys of time! | |
| But guide my steps to endless life and bliss. | |
| Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee, | |
| To give me an higher appellation still, | |
| Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay, | 20 |
| O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day! | | | | |
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