Holy Sonnet IV: Oh My Black Soul! Now Art Thou Summoned
Oh my black soul! now art thou summonedBy sickness, death's herald, and champion;Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath doneTreason, 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 mightThat being red, it dyes red souls to white
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