Read "Death, be not Proud, Though some have Called Thee" by John Donne online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
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 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 soul'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.