At the Round Earth's Imagin'd Corners - John Donne

[mehinda.livejournal.com]

Holy Sonnet VII

At the round earths imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, Angells, and arise, arise
From death, you numberlesse infinities
Of soules, and to your scattred bodies goe,
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom warre, dearth, sage, agues, tyrannies,
Despaire, law chance, hath slaine, and you whose eyes,
Shall behold God, and never tast deaths woe.
But let them sleepe, Lord, and mee mourne a space,
For, if above all these, my sinnes abound,
'Tis late to aske abundance of thy grace,
When wee are there; here on this lowly ground,
Teach mee how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon, with thy blood.

Comments

[jennyjake.livejournal.com]

I sang a song based on this poem once. The piece made me cry almost every time. Thanks for posting.

[nosyparker.livejournal.com]

I was about to comment and say the same thing! Except mine was a choral piece, and...it didn't sound so great. The bit on the first 'arise'...*shudder*. This poem always brings me right back to ninth grade, heh heh.