Death Be Not Proud

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

by John Donne

Comments (3)

there are things that are worth the wait, just as an enlightenment that come without advance notice............. good poem. read my poem called Long or Short...
Well taking the long view I read 'American Emmpire' well reread in fact and then read this and thaught yes I like this good work and esp like the last line.
Like this... an untrendy Victorian theme given wry modern treatment. And oh yeah, it does ring true.