Death, be not proud
John Donne · 1633
Death, be not proud, though some have callèd 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 picture 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 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!
Public domain in the UK and the US · serany.app
What Serany thinks about this poem
Background
Donne wrote it around 1610 and it was printed in 1633, after he died. He was the preacher at St Paul's, and he had buried a wife and several children.
Meaning
He's arguing with Death and winning. Death looks mighty, but it's only a sleep, and once you wake from it Death is the thing that's finished.
Who's it for
A believer, and a family who want something with some fight in it rather than a quiet goodbye. It suits a person who argued back all their life.
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