O might those sighes and teares returne againe <br />Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent, <br />That I might in this holy discontent <br />Mourne with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vaine; <br />In mine Idolatry what showres of raine <br />Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did rent? <br />That sufferance was my sinne; now I repent; <br />'Cause I did sufffer I must suffer paine. <br />Th'hydroptique drunkard, and night-scouting thiefe, <br />The itchy Lecher, and selfe-tickling proud <br />Have the remembrance of past joyes, for reliefe <br />Of comming ills. To (poore) me is allow'd <br />No ease; for, long, yet vehement griefe hath beene <br />Th'effect and cause, the punishment and sinne.<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/holy-sonnet-iii-o-might-those-sighes/
