Holy Sonnet Iv: Oh My Black Soul! Now Art Thou Summoned
John Donne
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.
Next 10 Poems
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Ix: If Poisonous Minerals, And If That Tree
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Vi: This Is My Play's Last Scene, Here Heavens Appoint
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Vii: At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners Blow
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Viii: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet X
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Xi: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Xii: Why Are We By All Creatures Waited On?
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Xiii: What If This Present Were The World's Last Night?
Previous 10 Poems
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Iii: O Might Those Sighs And Tears Return Again
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet Ii: As Due By Many Titles I Resign
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet I: Tho Has Made Me
- John Donne : Holy Sonnet ?
- John Donne : Good-morrow, The
- John Donne : Go And Catach A Falling Star
- John Donne : Funeral, The
- John Donne : For Whom The Bell Tolls
- John Donne : Elegy Xviii: Love's Progress
- John Donne : Elegy Xvi: On His Mistress