DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
-John Donne
- Elliott Smith
4 comments:
You know, I've kind of lost my connection to poetry but not when it's utilized like this. I could read poetry with a YT video any day...
:O You should make that a regular thing!!!
I'm trying to be a better music journalist. this came on a whim. I wanted to post the poem, and (this makes me kind of sad) but the only artist I could think of who was fitting was Elliott Smith. to me, his death has always been something of a triumph. that sounds so demented, I dunno how to qualify it.
what I mean is that it doesn't seem like he really died, because he lives on forever within his music and our souls.
death has been conquered with an acoustic guitar.
We're studying Donne at the moment and we started with this sonnet. I was blown away by it, and thought he was going to be this profound in all his poems. Turns out the majority of the others were pretty much elaborate ways of saying "let's fuck". What a guy.
And yes; Elliott Smith is amazing.
hahah yes, like The Flea.
oh the 17th century wasn't the most tactful of times. it's funny, because the ostensible propriety is through the roof but everything is essentially as callously sexual as Chaucer's times.
damn it Tara you just made em nostalgic for my scholastic days and I just reread an essay I did on Rape of the Lock. good stuff.
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