Death be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,For, those, whome 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.
-John Donne
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