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John Donne - Oh my blacke Soule! now thou art summoned
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Oh my black Soule! Now thou art summoned

	By sicknesse, deaths herald, and champion;

	Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done

	Treason, and durst not turne to whence hee is fled,

	Or like a thiefe, which till deaths doome be read,

	Wisheth himselfe deliverd from prison;

	But damn`d and hal`d to execution,

	Wisheth that sill he might be imprisioned;

	Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lacke;

	But who shall give thee that grace to beginne?

	Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke;

	And red with blushing, as thou art with sinne;

	Or wash thee in Christ`s blood, which hath this might

	That being red, it dyes red soules to white.
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