Holy Sonnet 10

This may be a little different to leave you all on this evening but I wanted to share this with you. Every now and again I need to post something of "culture" right? Any way ... Most of us has read at least a part of this before and many have read the whole thing. But as the last lines state, death is just a passage, a doorway if you will to our next life, a glorious life with God! Something to remind myself when the day to day seems unending as it were. Have a blessed evening everyone!


Holy Sonnet: 10


By John Donne


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 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.