Death, Be Not Proud

I just dusted off Norton's Anthology of English Literature - which hasn't been opened since college.  A hunger inside drove me to grab a few different books off the shelf, and I decided to open this one.  The section covering John Donne presented itself to me, so I fed my curiosity with a few of his lines.  Here's Holy Sonnet #10 - "Death Be Not Proud":

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou are 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 are 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.

I could dissect this, but I'll simply say I really like it.  Read - it's good for you!

S...