What if this present were the worlds last night? <br />Marke in my heart, O Soule, where thou dost dwell, <br />The picture of Christ crucified, and tell <br />Whether that countenance can thee affright, <br />Teares in his eyes quench the amazing light, <br />Blood fills his frownes, which from his pierc'd head fell. <br />And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell, <br />Which pray'd forgiveness for his foes fierce spight? <br />No, no; but as in my idolatrie <br />I said to all my profane mistresses, <br />Beauty, of pitty, foulnesse onely is <br />A sign of rigour: so I say to thee, <br />To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd, <br />This beauteous forme assures a pitious minde.<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/holy-sonnet-xiii-what-if-this-present/
