John Donne (1572–1631)

Death Be Not Proud 1611

Death be not proud, though some have callèd 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, images 5

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.° deliverance

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with Poison, War, and Sickness dwell; 10

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st° thou then? swell with pride

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.