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John Donne: Holy Sonnets

John Donne: Holy Sonnets

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In mine Idolatry what showres of raine Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did rent? That sufferance was my sinne; now I repent; ’Cause I did suffer I must suffer paine. Th’hydroptique drunkard, and night-scouting thiefe, The itchy Lecher, and selfe tickling proud Have the remembrance of past joyes, for reliefe Of comming ills.

  Idolatry

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