Richard Burton reads John Donne's poem 'At the round Earth's imagined corners'

At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners
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, overthrow,
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.
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'dst sealed my pardon, with Thy blood

[@lorettalynndavis9695]

Beautiful. Captures the days of the future for all God's children, through Jesus Christ our lord, Amen.

[@VicNicGuitar]

Not many read Donne like Burton. 🏆

[@colonelhugo9850]

John Donne was a damn genius

[@gwedielwch]

Such a fine reading. Burton's stresses perfectly point the meaning. And there are some wonderful touches - I like the shading of 'sleep' in the first line of the sestet.