English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 167. Death |
| | | John Donne (1573–1631) |
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| 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 picture be, | 5 |
| Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow; | |
| And soonest our best men with thee do go— | |
| Rest of their bones and souls’ delivery! | |
| Thou’rt 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? | |
| One short sleep past, we wake eternally, | |
| And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die! | |
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