At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners

At the round earth’s imagined corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of Souls that Strain, in this frail, mortal night!

‘Your sound waves shall gather forth me here— Musical chimes can claim from symmetry The vast horizons of creation near, In answering Nature composed with thee!

Rest your angelic fulgurant light Of scepters thrown to worlds almost unheard; Shall I breach a rest for you again that might Sound the very echo, for me unheard?

O, let me go; when may my eye behold? To bind us in the flow we share, afar Each soul cast wild on a foamy fold Grasping at the farthest of unseen stars.

Beleaguer to the source—O mortal breath, Within the ether move to claim the dawn, Let this spring dawn forth, and dance the death, Your grandeur’s call keeps truth alive until we’re drawn!

• John Donne