JOHN DONNE

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:

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.

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