A poetess died in poverty in Boston in 1783.
How can it be?
Her life, a mix of pain and pleasure.
She wrote of freedom, and experienced it, in her own measure.
Her verse it reached across the sea to England’s shore,
Gaining attention from countesses and the court.
And yet, the pain of postwar Boston,
outpost of the British.
Couldn’t sustain the life
of this patriot.
Her words had prophesied freedom’s arrival,
Even reached the ears of the Revered General.
But lo, her son,
A casualty of corrupted water.
Her husband, locked
Behind bars until his debts were paid.
The riches of her verse
We savor hundreds of years later
But in her time of need
Did not sustain her
How many more like Phillis?
How many today, in this moment?
Life is not a cakewalk for the gifted.
Many hidden artists are indeed shrouded.
Read about the life of this amazing woman! You won’t regret it.