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Death Be Not Proud
by John Donne

Death, be not proud,
though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful,
for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st
thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death,
nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep,
which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee
much more must flow,
And soonest our best men
with thee do go,
Rest of their bones,
and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance,
kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war,
and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can
make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke;
why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past,
we wake eternally
And death shall be no more;
Death, thou shalt die.

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(1572-1631)

John Donne was an English Jacobean poet, preacher and a major representative of the metaphysical poets of the period. His works are notable for their realistic and sensual style and include sonnets, love poetry, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, satires and sermons. His poetry is noted for its vibrancy of language and inventiveness of metaphor, especially as compared to those of his contemporaries.

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Death Be Not Proud by John Donne

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Death Be Not Proud
by John Donne