John Donne

 
ODE.

I.  VENGEANCE will sit above our faults ; but till
                 She there do sit,
    We see her not, nor them.   Thus blind, yet still
    We lead her way ; and thus, whilst we do ill,
                 We suffer it.
   
2.  Unhappy he whom youth makes not beware
                 Of doing ill.
    Enough we labour under age, and care ;
    In number, th' errors of the last place are
                 The greatest still.
   
3.  Yet we, that should the ill we now begin
                 As soon repent,
    Strange thing !  perceive not ; our faults are not seen,
    But past us ; neither felt, but only in
                 The punishment.
   
4.  But we know ourselves least ; mere outward shows
                 Our minds so store,
    That our souls no more than our eyes disclose
    But form and colour.  Only he who knows
                 Himself, knows more.



Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 190-191.



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