Britten: The Holy Sonnets Of John Donne, Op. 35: 3. Oh Might Those Sighes And Teares

O might those sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spain'd
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vain!
In my idolatry, what showers of rain
Mine eyes did waste! what griefs my heart did rent!
That sufferance was my sin, now I repent
Cause I did suffer, I must suffer pain
Thy drop-tick'd drunkard and night-scouring thief
Villican lecher, and self-tickling proud
Bears the remembrance of past joys
For relief of coming ills
To poor me is allow'd no peace
For long, yet vehement, grief hath been
The effect and cause, the punishment
And sin