Poetry Journal #3 - Death Be Not Proud

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.

-John Donne

This is one of my favorite poems of all time. I love that the speaker, who is clearly the poet, is speaking directly TO Death, personified. I have read a lot of poetry where the subject being discussed is death, or to where we are feeling the after-effects of death, but this is one of the very few that directs the message directly AT Death, and personifies him. I think there is a certain amount of glee in this poem at the idea of this great force being truly unimportant and, in a sense, beaten, which causes a feeling of elation.

I like how Donne enters and exits the poem in similar ways, with a four-word statement, almost a command, to Death: "Death be not proud" and "Death, thou shalt die." This poem is almost about the exertion of dominance over death, and so to enter and exit the poem with such brief statements, structured at commands really ties in well with the body and message of the poem.

I find the rhyme scheme interesting, as it is abba, cddc, effe and then ends in an unrhymed couplet. To me, this draws particular attention to the final statement, "Death, thou shalt die" as we expect it to rhyme, and it does not.