Death the mighty tyrant

Death, be not proud

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.

On this day in the church year, we remember John Donne, the great 16th century metaphysical poet whose mastery of elaborate and extended metaphor, known as conceit, compared highly unlikely objects to bring about deep understanding. In the sonnet above, Holy Sonnet 10, he compares death to a mighty tyrant concluding that like a mighty tyrant, death will not prevail..."And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die." This powerful comparison emphasizes our belief in life eternal and our conviction that death is not the end.

For more understanding of the concept of literary conceit, treat yourself to the movie Wit with Emma Thompson and the great Eileen Atkins, a beautiful study of mind vs. body and what ultimately matters in life.