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Poetry

Sunday Sonnet.

Over the last two weeks we have been visiting and being visited by our parent’s generation: now in their ninth decade. They are all still striving forward. And they are aware that the time is short.

Donne knew this.

Holy Sonnet 6

This is my play’s last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace;
My span’s last inch, my minute’s latest point;

And gluttonous Death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space;
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.

Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they’re bred and would press me to hell.

Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.

John Donne, 1633