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Oh my blacke Soule! now thou art summoned

John Donne 1572 (London) – 1631 (London)



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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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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John Donne

John Donne was an English poet, satirist, lawyer and a cleric in the Church of England. more…

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    "Oh my blacke Soule! now thou art summoned" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 19 Aug. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/22561/oh-my-blacke-soule%21-now-thou-art-summoned>.

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