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 |
Thursday 24 May 2012
The Thursday Poem
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