Try our new chrome extension - Lumos Readability Assistant

DEATH BE NOT PROUD

- By John Donne
Font Size
John Donne (/dʌn/ DUN; 22 January 1572[1] – 31 March 1631) was an English poet, scholar, soldier and secretary born into a recusant family, who later became a cleric in the Church of England.[3] Under royal patronage, he was made Dean of St Paul's Cathedral in London (1621–1631).[2] He is considered the preeminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His poetical works are noted for their metaphorical and sensual style and include sonnets, love poems, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, and satires. He is also known for his sermons. Donne's style is characterised by abrupt openings and various paradoxes, ironies and dislocations. These features, along with his frequent dramatic or everyday speech rhythms, his tense syntax and his tough eloquence, were both a reaction against the smoothness[citation needed] of conventional Elizabethan poetry and an adaptation into English of European baroque and mannerist techniques. His early career was marked by poetry that bore immense knowledge of English society and he met that knowledge with sharp criticism[citation needed]. Another important theme in Donne's poetry is the idea of true religion, something that he spent much time considering and about which he often theorised. He wrote secular poems as well as erotic and love poems. He is particularly famous for his mastery of metaphysical conceits.

DEATH BE NOT PROUD

"John Donne" by Isaac Oliver is in the public domain.

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.

Current Page: 1

GRADE:9

Ratings & Comments

Rate this Passage?
0

0 Ratings & 0 Reviews

5
0
0
4
0
0
3
0
0
2
0
0
1
0
0
Questions and Answers DEATH BE NOT PROUD

Please wait while we generate questions and answers...

Additional Information:

Words: 127

Unique Words : 88

Sentences : 3

Reading Time : 0:33

Noun : 42

Conjunction : 20

Adverb : 13

Interjection : 0

Adjective : 10

Pronoun : 18

Verb : 17

Preposition : 6

Letter Count : 512

Sentiment : Negative

Tone : Conversational

Difficult Words : 32

EdSearch WebSearch