John Donne   HOLY SONNETS. IV. O, my black soul, now thou art summoned By sickness, Death's herald and champion ; Thou'rt like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done Treason, and durst not turn to whence he's fled ; Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read, Wisheth himself deliver'd from prison, But damn'd 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 ? O, make thyself 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. Source: Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I. E. K. Chambers, ed. London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 158-159. to Works of John Donne Site copyright ©1996-2003 Anniina Jokinen.All Rights Reserved. Created by Anniina Jokinen on June 14, 1996. Last updated on September 8, 2003. Background by the kind permission of Stormi Wallpaper Boutique.