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    John Donne - Death, Be Not Proud

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    poetictouch

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    John Donne - Death, Be Not Proud - Divine Sonnet 10 - Read by Anton Lesser

    Death, Be Not Proud
    Divine Sonnet 10
    by John Donne (1572-1631)

    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,
    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.