http://www.love-poems.me.uk/donne_death_be_not_proud.htm

Death be not ptoud, though some have called three

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,

For, those,whom thou think`s, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, not yet canst thou kill mee,

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

Much please, then from thee,much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie.

Thou art to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppe, 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,

by John Donne