Jesus Weeping at Lazarus' Tomb,
painting by Jerry Dienes, (c) 1997
Death, Be Not
Proud
by John Donne (1572-1631)
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,
And soonest our best men with thee
do go,
Rest of their bones, and souil's 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.
Holy Sonnet
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