Jamie Be Not Proud

I never did get poetry, I don't now get poetry and I doubt I ever will get poetry....especially unless it rhymes, or unless it's in the form of lyrics by Springsteen, and I need look no farther to remind myself of it than one of the greatest poems ever written, or so they tell me.

John Donne
"Death be not proud, though some have called thee"

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Heck, he loses me in the very first sentence. So, anytime I'm feeling particularly intellectually superior or pretending to be so, and you see it, please just utter these words: "Death Be Not Proud"

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