Episode 116: Donne's Holy Sonnet VII ("At the Round Earth's Imagin'd Corners, Blow")
Happy Easter, everyone! For this Sabbath holiday I've chosen a holy sonnet by John Donne. This poem is about Jesus' second coming rather than his atoning sacrifice, so I guess it's not a perfect Easter poem, but it's still pretty close. It's in the right ballpark.
This is recorded while sitting on a tree that had toppled across a stream, and there's a lot of water noise in the background. It might not make great audio, but it was a fun place to record.
TEXT OF POEM:“Holy Sonnet VII (At the Round Earth’s Imagin’d Corners, Blow)”
By John Donne
At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death's woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.
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