Here you will find the Poem Ode of poet John Donne
I. VENGEANCE will sit above our faults ; but till She there do sit, We see her not, nor them. Thus blind, yet still We lead her way ; and thus, whilst we do ill, We suffer it. 2. Unhappy he whom youth makes not beware Of doing ill. Enough we labour under age, and care ; In number, th' errors of the last place are The greatest still. 3. Yet we, that should the ill we now begin As soon repent, Strange thing ! perceive not ; our faults are not seen, But past us ; neither felt, but only in The punishment. 4. But we know ourselves least ; mere outward shows Our minds so store, That our souls no more than our eyes disclose But form and colour. Only he who knows Himself, knows more.