At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow Your trumpets, … - John Donne

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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 scattered bodies go.

John Donne

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About John Donne

John Donne (22 January 1572 – 31 March 1631) was a Jacobean metaphysical poet. His works include sonnets, love poetry, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, and sermons.

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Alternative Names: Very Rev. John Donne

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William Shakespeare Lord Byron Alfred Tennyson Elizabeth Barrett Browning Algernon Charles Swinburne

Additional quotes by John Donne

Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feigned deaths to die.

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.

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 scatt… - John Donne

About John Donne

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