John Donne Quote
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go.
Holy Sonnets (1609) no. 4 (ed. J. Carey, 1990)
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go.
Holy Sonnets (1609) no. 4 (ed. J. Carey, 1990)