by Admin | Dec 17, 2025 | Word of the Day, Emerald Book Club, Vocabulary
a clever action in a game or other situation that is intended to achieve an advantage and usually involves taking a risk
(in chess) an opening move in which a player makes a sacrifice, typically of a pawn, for the sake of a compensating advantage.
an act or
remark that is calculated to gain an advantage, especially at the
outset of a situation.
- “Starting the meeting with an unexpected question was a clever gambit to capture everyone’s attention.”
- ” The Detective’s Gambit of pretending to be a Potential suspect helped him solve the case”.
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“his resignation was a tactical gambit”
“chess opening in which a pawn or piece is risked for advantage later,” 1650s, gambett, from Italian gambetto, literally “a tripping up” (as a trick in wrestling), from gamba “leg,” from Late Latin gamba “horse’s hock or leg” (see gambol (n.)).
Applied to chess openings in Spanish in 1561 by Ruy Lopez, who traced it to the Italian word, but the form in Spanish generally was gambito, which led to French gambit, which has influenced the English spelling of the word. The broader sense of “opening move meant to gain advantage” in English is recorded from 1855.
Gambit captures the balance between risk and strategy. It reminds us that thoughtful risks—when taken intentionally—can open doors to opportunity, creativity, and growth. The word is both intellectually rich and highly versatile, making it useful across many contexts.
💬 Members’ Thoughts:
What does gambit mean to you?
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Have you ever taken a calculated risk that paid off?
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Where have you seen this word used—in books, games, or real life?
Share your thoughts in the comments below. Your perspective may be featured in a future Vocabulary Tuesdays post.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified by John Donne
If faithful souls be alike glorified
As angels, then my fathers soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicity,
That valiantly I hells 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 vile blasphemous conjurers to call
On Jesus name, and Pharisaical
Dissemblers feign devotion. Then turn,
O pensive soul, to God, for he knows best
Thy true grief, for he put it in my breast.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnet VII: At the round earth’s imagin’d corners by 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.
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 hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnet V I am a Little World made Cunningly by John Donne
I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betray'd to endless night
My world's both parts, and oh both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown 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 envy have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; let their flames retire,
And burn me O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnet IV: Oh my black soul! by John Dunne
Oh my black soul! now art thou summoned
By sickness, death's herald, and champion;
Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done
Treason, and durst not turn to whence he is fled;
Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read,
Wisheth himself delivered from prison,
But damned and haled to execution,
Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned.
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack;
But who shall give thee that grace to begin?
Oh make thy self with holy mourning black,
And red with blushing, as thou art with sin;
Or wash thee in Christ's blood, which hath this might
That being red, it dyes red souls to white.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Emerald Book Club
Holy Sonnet III: O Might Those Sighs And Tears Return Again by John Donne
O might those sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourned in vain;
In mine Idolatry what showers of rain
Mine eyes did waste! what griefs my heart did rent!
That sufferance was my sin; now I repent;
'Cause I did suffer I must suffer pain.
Th' hydropic drunkard, and night-scouting thief,
The itchy lecher, and self-tickling proud
Have the remembrance of past joys for relief
Of coming ills. To (poor) me is allowed
No ease; for long, yet vehement grief hath been
Th' effect and cause, the punishment and sin.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnet II As Due By Many Titles I Resign by John Donne
As due by many titles I resign
My self to Thee, O God; first I was made
By Thee, and for Thee, and when I was decayed
Thy blood bought that, the which before was Thine;
I am Thy son, made with Thy Self to shine,
Thy servant, whose pains Thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheep, thine image, and, till I betrayed
My self, a temple of Thy Spirit divine;
Why doth the devil then usurp on me?
Why doth he steal, nay ravish that's thy right?
Except thou rise and for thine own work fight,
Oh I shall soon despair, when I do see
That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt not choose me,
And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose me.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnet VI: This is my play's last scene
By John Donne
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 my 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'are bred, and would press me, to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purg'd of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | Holy Sonnets, John Donne, Poems
Holy Sonnets 1: Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste,
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind, and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only thou art above, and when towards thee
By thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour I can myself sustain;
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.
by Admin | Dec 15, 2025 | John Donne, Holy Sonnets, Poems
"Holy Sonnet XIV" – also known by its first line as "Batter my heart, three-person'd God" – is a poem written by the English poet John Donne (1572–1631). It is a part of a larger series of poems called Holy Sonnets, comprising nineteen poems in total. The poem was printed and published for the first time in Poems in 1633, two years after the author's death
Holy Sonnets: Batter my heart, three-person'd God by John Donne
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
