"After Several Detours, Monongahela Native Marching with the Marines"

Your Humble, Faithful Blogster has a feature article in the Mon Valley section of today's Tribune-Review.

Lane Core Jr. CIW P — Sun. 03/06/05 07:18:43 AM
Categorized as E.L. Core @ The Tribune-Review.

Three by Donne II

Three sonnets by John Donne.

Oh my blacke Soule! now thou art summoned
By sicknesse, deaths herald, and champion;
Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done
Treason, and durst not turne to whence hee is fled,
Or like a thiefe, which till deaths doome be read,
Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison;
But damn'd and hal'd to execution,
Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned.
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lacke;
But who shall give thee that grace to beginne?
Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke,
And red with blushing, as thou art with sinne;
Or wash thee in Christs blood, which hath this might
That being red, it dyes red soules to white.

(Holy Sonnets IV)

I am a little world made cunningly
Of Elements, and an Angelike spright,
But black sinne hath betraid to endlesse night
My worlds both parts, and (oh) both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new sphears, and of new lands can write,
Powre new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drowne my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it if it must be drown'd no more;
But oh it must be burnt; alas the fire
Of lust and envie have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; Let their flames retire,
And burne me ô Lord, with a fiery zeale
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heale.

(Holy Sonnets V)

This is my playes last scene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimages last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly runne, hath this last pace,
My spans last inch, my minutes latest point,
And gluttonous death, will instantly unjoynt
My body, and soule, and I shall sleepe a space,
But my'ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose feare already shakes my every joynt;
Then, as my soule, to'heaven her first seate, takes flight,
And earth borne body, in the earth shall dwelll,
So, fall my sinnes, that all may have their right,
To where they'are bred, and would presse me, to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purg'd of evill,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devill.

(Holy Sonnets VI)

John Donne: The Complete English Poems (1991), ed. C.A. Patrides, pp. 436, 437, 437f. For modernized versions, see Holy Sonnet IV, Holy Sonnet V, Holy Sonnet VI.

See also Three by Donne I: Three sonnets by John Donne.

Lane Core Jr. CIW P — Sun. 03/06/05 06:55:24 AM
Categorized as Literary & Religious & Sunday Poetry Series.