Monday, 18 July 2011

Death be not Proud (Holy Sonnets: X)

 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.
-- John Donne

p/s: If you are really interested in John Donne, you might wanna read this guy's blog

No comments:

Post a Comment

© 2008-2013. Si Traveler Come. All Rights Reserved. The blog owner cannot be held liable for any error, inaccuracy and/or amissions whatsoever caused. Liability would not be accepted for any action taken based on the views expressed or information provided in this website/blog. Site Design By Si Traveler Comel