“Holy Sonnet 10,” often referred to by its opening line (“Death, be not proud”), was written by the English poet and Christian cleric John Donne in 1609 and first published in 1633. The poem is a direct address to death, arguing that it is powerless because it acts merely as a “short sleep” between earthly living and the eternal afterlife—in essence, death is nothing to fear. The sonnet is written mostly in iambic pentameter and is part of a series known as Donne's "Holy Sonnets"(or “Divine Meditations”/ “Divine Sonnets”). In keeping with these other poems, “Holy Sonnet 10” is a devotional lyric that looks at life’s biggest questions in the context of Donne’s religious beliefs.
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1Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
2Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
3For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
4Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
5From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
6Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
7And soonest our best men with thee do go,
8Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
9Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
10And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
11And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
12And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
13One short sleep past, we wake eternally
14And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
1Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
2Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
3For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
4Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
5From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
6Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
7And soonest our best men with thee do go,
8Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
9Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
10And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
11And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
12And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
13One short sleep past, we wake eternally
14And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
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?
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
A Clip from Wit — A clip from the film version of Wit, a play by Margaret Edson. The two lead characters discuss the punctuation of Donne's sonnet.
A Reading by John Gielgud — A reading by the influential actor and theater director, John Gielgud.
Britten's "Death, be not proud" — English composer Benjamin Britten set a number of Donne's "Holy Sonnets" to music. Here is a performance of "Death, be not proud."
The Holy Sonnets — A link to the entire "Holy Sonnets" series (based on the Westmoreland manuscript).