John Donne


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.

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

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