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By john donne Submitted by lulu Date: 2002 Oct 17 Comment on this Work [[2002.10.17.18.48.16925]] |
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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; not yet canst thou kill me. from rest and sleep, which but thy picutre be, 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 dweel; and poppy or charms can make us sleep as well and better than thy stroke. why swell'st thoug then? one short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more: death, thou shalt die! |