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 (4)

this is a very interesting piece. comes to mind a rock-n-roll tune. well done. Jake
As I said when you put this one up before, you have a wonderful musical quality...
Thats very good! Its very lyrically written. Have you even though of writing songs because i think you'd be great at them! This was strange but wonderful to read.
This is so very delightful, Gemma...A very enjoyable read...so full of expectancy...very well done... Lare