Holy Sonnet 10: Death, Be Not Proud
John Donne
1572 to 1631
Type into the gaps to complete the poem. To reset the game, click on the "Reset Game" button located below the poem. This will clear all the words you've placed in the blanks, and resetting the poem to its original state with empty blanks. If you prefer to drag and drop words, click the Drag & Drop button below. You can also print out the poem for use in the classroom.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee more must flow,
And soonest our best men with do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy charms can make us sleep as well
And better thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.