The Thursday Poem



Young Woman Reading by a Window - Delphin Enjolras


Death, Be Not Proud

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;
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;
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 he no more: Death, thou shalt die.

John Donne
(c. June 1572 - 31st March 1631)

from the book: Poem for the Day One