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Poetry

Sunday Sonnet.

Going from the time of the English Commonwealth to this fallen post enlightenment decline is a challenge. However, the old hymn here discusses sonnets, and that will suffice. Donne will be one of the flaming tongues above using his wordcraft to praise our Saviour and God.

Holy Sonnet 8

If faithful souls be alike glorified
As angels, then my father’s soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicity,
That valiantly I hell’s wide mouth o’erstride.

But if our minds to these souls be descried
By circumstances, and by signs that be
Apparent in us not immediately,
How shall my mind’s white truth by them be tried?

They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,
And stile blasphemous conjurers to call
On Jesu’s name, and pharisaical
Dissemblers feign devotion. Then turn,

O pensive soul, to God, for He knows best
Thy grief, for He put it into my breast.

John Donne, 1622

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