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    <title>Poetry For All - Episodes Tagged with “Encomium”</title>
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    <pubDate>Thu, 19 Feb 2026 16:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
    <description>This podcast is for those who already love poetry and for those who know very little about it. In this podcast, we read a poem, discuss it, see what makes it tick, learn how it works, grow from it, and then read it one more time.
Introducing our brand new Poetry For All website: https://poetryforallpod.com! Please visit the new website to learn more about our guests, search for thematic episodes (ranging from Black History Month to the season of autumn), and subscribe to our newsletter. 
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    <itunes:subtitle>Finding Our Way Into Great Poems</itunes:subtitle>
    <itunes:author>Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen</itunes:author>
    <itunes:summary>This podcast is for those who already love poetry and for those who know very little about it. In this podcast, we read a poem, discuss it, see what makes it tick, learn how it works, grow from it, and then read it one more time.
Introducing our brand new Poetry For All website: https://poetryforallpod.com! Please visit the new website to learn more about our guests, search for thematic episodes (ranging from Black History Month to the season of autumn), and subscribe to our newsletter. 
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      <itunes:name>Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen</itunes:name>
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  <title>Episode 105: Phillis Wheatley Peters, "To the Earl of Dartmouth"</title>
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  <pubDate>Thu, 19 Feb 2026 16:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
  <author>Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen</author>
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  <itunes:author>Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen</itunes:author>
  <itunes:subtitle>Today, joined by Professor Kirsten Lee, we read a poem about freedom written on the eve of the American Revolution by Phillis Wheatley, the first African American to publish a book of poetry. In praise to the new British Secretary of State, she guides him how to rule while tying an American love of Freedom to her own personal experience of enslavement.</itunes:subtitle>
  <itunes:duration>25:44</itunes:duration>
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  <description>Today, joined by Professor Kirsten Lee, we read a poem about freedom written on the eve of the American Revolution by Phillis Wheatley, the first African American to publish a book of poetry. In praise to the new British Secretary of State, she guides him how to rule while tying an American love of Freedom to her own personal experience of enslavement.
To the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth
By Phillis Wheatley
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The northern clime beneath her genial ray,
Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,
Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns,
While in thine hand with pleasure we behold
The silken reins, and Freedom's charms unfold.
Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies
She shines supreme, while hated faction dies:
Soon as appear'd the Goddess long desir'd,
Sick at the view, she languish'd and expir'd;
Thus from the splendors of the morning light
The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.
No more, America, in mournful strain
Of wrongs, and grievance unredress'd complain,
No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,
Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand
Had made, and with it meant t' enslave the land.
Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song,
Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,
Whence flow these wishes for the common good,
By feeling hearts alone best understood,
I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate
Was snatch'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat:
What pangs excruciating must molest,
What sorrows labour in my parent's breast?
Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd
That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd:
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?
For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due,
And thee we ask thy favours to renew,
Since in thy pow'r, as in thy will before,
To sooth the griefs, which thou did'st once deplore.
May heav'nly grace the sacred sanction give
To all thy works, and thou for ever live
Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame,
Though praise immortal crowns the patriot's name,
But to conduct to heav'ns refulgent fane,
May fiery coursers sweep th' ethereal plain,
And bear thee upwards to that blest abode,
Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.
For more on Wheatley, see https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/phillis-wheatley
For more on Professor Kirsten Lee, see her website: https://cla.auburn.edu/directory/kirsten-lee/ 
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  <itunes:keywords>18th century, encomium, Black History Month, rhymed verse, guest on the show</itunes:keywords>
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    <![CDATA[<p>Today, joined by Professor Kirsten Lee, we read a poem about freedom written on the eve of the American Revolution by Phillis Wheatley, the first African American to publish a book of poetry. In praise to the new British Secretary of State, she guides him how to rule while tying an American love of Freedom to her own personal experience of enslavement.</p>

<p><strong>To the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth</strong></p>

<p>By Phillis Wheatley</p>

<p>Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,<br>
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:<br>
The northern clime beneath her genial ray,<br>
Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:<br>
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,<br>
Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns,<br>
While in thine hand with pleasure we behold<br>
The silken reins, and Freedom&#39;s charms unfold.<br>
Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies</p>

<p>She shines supreme, while hated faction dies:<br>
Soon as appear&#39;d the Goddess long desir&#39;d,<br>
Sick at the view, she languish&#39;d and expir&#39;d;<br>
Thus from the splendors of the morning light<br>
The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.<br>
No more, America, in mournful strain<br>
Of wrongs, and grievance unredress&#39;d complain,<br>
No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,<br>
Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand<br>
Had made, and with it meant t&#39; enslave the land.</p>

<p>Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song,<br>
Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,<br>
Whence flow these wishes for the common good,<br>
By feeling hearts alone best understood,<br>
I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate<br>
Was snatch&#39;d from Afric&#39;s fancy&#39;d happy seat:<br>
What pangs excruciating must molest,<br>
What sorrows labour in my parent&#39;s breast?<br>
Steel&#39;d was that soul and by no misery mov&#39;d<br>
That from a father seiz&#39;d his babe belov&#39;d:<br>
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray<br>
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?</p>

<p>For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due,<br>
And thee we ask thy favours to renew,<br>
Since in thy pow&#39;r, as in thy will before,<br>
To sooth the griefs, which thou did&#39;st once deplore.<br>
May heav&#39;nly grace the sacred sanction give<br>
To all thy works, and thou for ever live<br>
Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame,<br>
Though praise immortal crowns the patriot&#39;s name,<br>
But to conduct to heav&#39;ns refulgent fane,<br>
May fiery coursers sweep th&#39; ethereal plain,<br>
And bear thee upwards to that blest abode,<br>
Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.</p>

<p>For more on Wheatley, see <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/phillis-wheatley" rel="nofollow">https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/phillis-wheatley</a></p>

<p>For more on Professor Kirsten Lee, see her website: <a href="https://cla.auburn.edu/directory/kirsten-lee/" rel="nofollow">https://cla.auburn.edu/directory/kirsten-lee/</a></p>]]>
  </content:encoded>
  <itunes:summary>
    <![CDATA[<p>Today, joined by Professor Kirsten Lee, we read a poem about freedom written on the eve of the American Revolution by Phillis Wheatley, the first African American to publish a book of poetry. In praise to the new British Secretary of State, she guides him how to rule while tying an American love of Freedom to her own personal experience of enslavement.</p>

<p><strong>To the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth</strong></p>

<p>By Phillis Wheatley</p>

<p>Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,<br>
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:<br>
The northern clime beneath her genial ray,<br>
Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:<br>
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,<br>
Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns,<br>
While in thine hand with pleasure we behold<br>
The silken reins, and Freedom&#39;s charms unfold.<br>
Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies</p>

<p>She shines supreme, while hated faction dies:<br>
Soon as appear&#39;d the Goddess long desir&#39;d,<br>
Sick at the view, she languish&#39;d and expir&#39;d;<br>
Thus from the splendors of the morning light<br>
The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.<br>
No more, America, in mournful strain<br>
Of wrongs, and grievance unredress&#39;d complain,<br>
No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,<br>
Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand<br>
Had made, and with it meant t&#39; enslave the land.</p>

<p>Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song,<br>
Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,<br>
Whence flow these wishes for the common good,<br>
By feeling hearts alone best understood,<br>
I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate<br>
Was snatch&#39;d from Afric&#39;s fancy&#39;d happy seat:<br>
What pangs excruciating must molest,<br>
What sorrows labour in my parent&#39;s breast?<br>
Steel&#39;d was that soul and by no misery mov&#39;d<br>
That from a father seiz&#39;d his babe belov&#39;d:<br>
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray<br>
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?</p>

<p>For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due,<br>
And thee we ask thy favours to renew,<br>
Since in thy pow&#39;r, as in thy will before,<br>
To sooth the griefs, which thou did&#39;st once deplore.<br>
May heav&#39;nly grace the sacred sanction give<br>
To all thy works, and thou for ever live<br>
Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame,<br>
Though praise immortal crowns the patriot&#39;s name,<br>
But to conduct to heav&#39;ns refulgent fane,<br>
May fiery coursers sweep th&#39; ethereal plain,<br>
And bear thee upwards to that blest abode,<br>
Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.</p>

<p>For more on Wheatley, see <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/phillis-wheatley" rel="nofollow">https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/phillis-wheatley</a></p>

<p>For more on Professor Kirsten Lee, see her website: <a href="https://cla.auburn.edu/directory/kirsten-lee/" rel="nofollow">https://cla.auburn.edu/directory/kirsten-lee/</a></p>]]>
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