Songs

At the round earth's imagined corners, blew

by Benjamin Britten From The Holy Sonnets of John Donne (1945) Op. 35

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Text

At the round earth's imagined corners, blew
English source: John Donne

At the round earth's imagined corners, blew
Your trumpets, angels, and arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow
All whom war, death, 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.

Composer

Benjamin Britten

Edward Benjamin Britten, Baron Britten (22 November 1913 – 4 December 1976) was an English composer, conductor and pianist. He was a central figure of 20th-century British classical music, with a range of works including opera, other vocal music,…

Poet

John Donne

John Donne was an English poet and cleric in the Church of England. He is considered the pre-eminent representative of the metaphysical poets. He studied at Hart Hall, Oxford, which is now Hertford College, best known for its iconic Hertford…

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