What if this present were the world's last night? <br />Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell, <br />The picture of Christ crucified, and tell <br />Whether that countenance can thee affright, <br />Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light, <br />Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell. <br />And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell, <br />Which prayed forgiveness for his foes' fierce spite? <br />No, no; but as in my idolatry <br />I said to all my profane mistresses, <br />Beauty, of pity, foulness only is <br />A sign of rigour: so I say to thee, <br />To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned, <br />This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/holy-sonnet-xiii-what-if-this-present-were-the-world-s-last-night/
