Death, be not proud, John Donne

[Beringia]

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are 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 1572 – 1631, was an English scholar, poet, and soldier who became a cleric in the Church of England. He is considered the pre-eminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His poetical works are noted for their metaphorical and sensual style and include sonnets, love poems, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, satires. He is also known for his sermons.

[Atticus]

1. Thank you for that. We need reminders in these dreary days that mankind is capable of

beauty and sensitivity and intelligence.

[Beringia]

4. You're welcome

I see a lot of poems on my twitter feed from poets.org but this one captured my imagination and feeling.

[LuvLoogie]

2. I read a John Donne sonnet at the end of my remarks at my Father's funeral...

BY JOHN DONNE

At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death's woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.

[Beringia]

3. Very beautiful

I have a hard time understanding everything he says, but it is still beautiful to read