Death be not Proud By John Donne Summary

Death be not Proud

By John Donne

 Donne 1572-1631 

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.

Summary 

'Death Be Not Proud" is one of the nineteen Holy Sonnets composed by the incredible supernatural poet John Donne. As a commonplace result of Renaissance, Donne composed a sort of affection and strict verse that stunned its perusers into consideration with its mind, prides, fantastical symbolism, savviness intricacy, informal and sensational styles. Donne's verse embodies the uncommon union of reason and energy - a novel quality which is named as the "Bound together Sensibility."

This sonnet strongly wrecks the well known origination of death as a strong despot. The writer presents a flighty perspective on death. By addressing the sonnet to a ridiculous degree, Donne says that Death ought not feel glad for itself. Demise is neither startling nor strong albeit certain individuals have called it so. It has no control over the spirit which is godlike. The artist clarifies his thought through the instances of rest and rest. He says that rest and rest are just the photos of death. We get delight from rest and rest. So passing itself ought to give substantially more joy, which is the genuine article. Furthermore our best men get demise very soon. Their bones get rest and their spirit gets opportunity. Henceforth passing isn't alarming thing.

Presently the writer impacts the prevalent view that demise is almighty. Demise, truth be told is a hostage, a captive to the force of destiny, possibility, brutal lords and awful men. It lives in the terrible organization of toxic substance, war and infection. Opium and different opiates are just about as powerful as death in actuating us to rest. They, really, make us rest better. Demise can't work at its own level. So passing ought not feel pleased with its powers.

Once more eventually, the artist says that passing is a sort of rest, after which the spirit will awaken to live everlastingly and becomes undying. Then, at that point, passing has no control over us. As such the spirit overcomes passing; it is simply the demise which kicks the bucket. Along these lines Donne debases demise and pronounces cheerfully the weakness of death. It is, not the slightest bit, strong and horrendous. So we ought not fear passing as it has