Death, be not proud, though some have callèd theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrowDie 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 wellAnd 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 · Holy Sonnet X
Comfort & remembrance
“Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee”
- Author
- John Donne
- Work
- Holy Sonnet X
- Found in
- The Oxford Book of English Verse
- Year
- 1633
- Length
- 122 words
- Source
- Project Gutenberg eBook #66619
Public domain. This passage is in the public domain. John Donne died in 1631, more than 70 years ago, and the work was first published in 1633. You can copy, print, read aloud or sell it without asking permission; a credit is kind but not required. The text is copied word for word from the Project Gutenberg edition linked here.
Related passages
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits andAre melted into air, into thin air:And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep.
I have been bent and broken, but—I hope—into a better shape.
There is always light behind the clouds.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;Thy fate is the common fate of all,Into each life some rain must fall,Some days must be dark and dreary.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowThe Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1893 · The Rainy Day
Passage page · Read the full text
Passage page · Read the full text
If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.
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