Right off the bat, the speaker starts talking smack to Death, whom he treats as a person.

He tells Death not to be so proud, because he's really not as scary or powerful as most people think. The
speaker starts talking in contradictions, saying that people don't really die when they meet Death - and neither will the speaker. Then, he really tries to burn Death's biscuit by comparing him to
"rest and sleep," two things that aren't scary at all. Next, to paraphrase Billy Joel, the speaker claims that "only the good die young," because the best people know that death brings pleasure, not
pain.
As if this isn't enough trash-talk, the speaker kicks it up a notch, calling Death a "slave" and accusing him of hanging out with those lowlifes "poison, war, and sickness." Besides, we don't need
Death - the speaker can just take drugs, and it will have the same effect: falling asleep. So death is just a "short sleep," after which a good Christian will wake up and find himself in Eternity.
Once this happens, it will seem like Death has died. How do you like them apples?
Lines 1-2Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
Death has got a real attitude problem. He thinks he’s the biggest, baddest, meanest dude in town. He’s "proud," arrogant, and thinks he can boss people around. When he walks down the street,
people avert their eyes and leap into alleyways to escape him. Everybody treats him like a king – of the Underworld. They think that he has the power ("might") to do terrible ("dreadful") things.
(And, by the way, we’re going to refer to Death as "he" because Donne talks to death as if it is a person – think of the hooded guy who carries around a sickle. Also, when poets address a person
or thing that isn’t there or can’t respond, it’s called an "apostrophe." This is one of the most famous examples of apostrophe in all of literature.) But, the speaker isn’t afraid. He walks right up to
Death and gives him a piece of his mind, just like your mother told you to do with grade-school bullies. It’s downright gutsy for the speaker to be telling this guy – who frightens everyone – what
to do. The speaker orders Death not to be proud, and then says that people are mistaken in treating Death as some fearsome being. Now, let’s go off on a tangent for a second. We’ve got an
important message from the people who study Donne and other Renaissance poets for a living, and that is: the poem you’re reading is not exactly the same version as the one published in the
17th century. For one thing, you’re probably reading a version with modern English spelling (except for the occasional "thee," "thou" or "art.").The original version has old-school spellings like
"dreadfull" instead of "dreadful." That's no biggie. More important are the changes in punctuation, of which the first line is a great example. In the original version from 1633, the sonnet begins
"Death be not proud." What’s the difference? There’s no comma after "death" in the original. Now, we think it’s perfectly cool for modern editors to change the punctuation to make it clearer that
Donne addresses Death like a person. But, just keep in mind that it changes the meaning slightly. For one thing, in the modern version, we lose the possibility that the speaker
could describe Death, as well as address it. That is, you could read "Death be not proud" to mean "Death is not proud," which means Death isn’t trying to be atough guy, after all. We think
"Tough Guy Death" is more fun, but it’s just something for you to think about. You can check out the original version here.
Lines 3-4
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Death thinks that he has the power to kill people, but he actually doesn’t. Donne uses the word "overthrow" instead of "kill" in line 3 – an interesting choice, because people usually use the word
in the context of "overthrowing" a ruler and taking control of his territory. Notice how there’s a nice dramatic pause created by the line break between "overthrow" and "die," as if the speaker lets
Death savor the idea of killing people just before pulling the rug out from under him. To make things more humiliating, the speaker starts to show his pity by addressing "poor Death," as if Death
just had his dreams crushed, and now needs some cheering up. But, hold on: it seems totally ridiculous to say that Death doesn’t kill people. That’s what makes Death Death! What gives? Donne
uses the idea of Christian eternity to argue that death is something that people pass through on their way to a new, eternal life. A good Christian must experience death – the end of life on earth –
but, in the long run, he or she can’t be "killed."
Lines 5-6
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
Didn’t they teach Donne in school that you shouldn’t start a sentence with a preposition like "from?" These two lines are a tangled knot of words, so read ‘em slow, and then go back and read
‘em again. He compares death to "rest" and "sleep," two things that give us pleasure." Therefore, death should give us pleasure, too, when we finally meet it. He claims that rest and sleep are only
"pictures" of death. The difference these two things and death is like the difference between a painting of an object and the real thing. They are watered-down versions of death, so if they give us
some pleasure, then death will give "much more." The pleasure of death will "flow’ like water or honey. Sounds nice – where do we sign up? The comparison of death to sleep or eternal rest is a
classic metaphor in Christian writings – one that goes back a long time. The philosopher St. Augustine, for example, writes that he won’t know what rest is really like, until he rests with God in
Heaven. It is a way for people to talk themselves out of their fear of dying – compare it to an experience that they enjoy. Kind of like how you might persuade someone to go skydiving by
comparing it to a super-fun rollercoaster ride.
Lines 7-8
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Billy Joel had it right, man: only the good die young. The "best men […] soonest" follow this dude Death into the afterlife, thinking that he will give the "rest of their bones," and free or "deliver"
their Christian souls from all the pain of earthly life. (Note that "deliver" can also refer to childbirth, which adds to the whole "new life" idea.) They are the hardest-working and bravest people in
society, so they get to kick their feet back and enjoy eternal rest before everyone else. (We think that, if Donne lived today, he would include women in this group, as well.) The speaker almost
certainly refers to people like soldiers and martyrs, who sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Is Donne being too cute here? After all, not that many soldiers are really thrilled to go off to
war, and few people go to war intending to die – otherwise they wouldn’t be very good soldiers. Donne makes it sound like the best men volunteer for death, when, in most cases, they only
volunteer to risk death in order to achieve something else. It is worth keeping in mind how downright sneaky this poem can be. It almost makes you want to run out and take on one of the
"World’s Most Dangerous Jobs."
Lines 9-10
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
In Petrarchan sonnets like this, it’s standard for the poem to shift or "turn" at line 9. This shift can be slight, or it can be a total U-turn. We think this sonnet has more of a slight turn. The speaker
raises his intensity in these lines, and becomes more hostile towards Death, calling him names and taunting him as a slave. With the metaphor of the slave, the speaker suggests that Death doesn’t
act on his own free will, and instead is controlled or manipulated by other things like "fate, chance, kings, and desperate men." Let’s take these one by one. Like Death, Fate is often treated as a
person in literature. Fate is thought to control everything that happens to people, including when they will die. So, Death doesn’t decide when people will die; he just carries out orders from Fate.
"Chance" is kind of the opposite of fate, so, again, it’s sneaky of Donne to put them side-by-side. "Chance" is luck, the idea that things can happen for no particular rhyme or reason. If
you die when a meteor crashes through your house in the middle of the night, that’s sheer bad luck, and there’s nothing you can do about it. "Kings" are different from fate and chance because
they are real people, but they have a similar kind of control over when and how people die. A king can send soldiers to die in battle or sentence people to execution. "Desperate men," we think,
refers to people who commit suicide or do stupid and reckless stuff, which might as well be suicide. If you decide to take your own life, it pretty much robs Death of the only card he has to play.
In line 10, the speaker brings another accusation against Death, claiming that he hangs out, or "dwells," with those notorious thugs, "poison, war, and sickness." In other words, Death’s friends
are total losers. It might be obvious by now, but we’ll repeat it anyway: Donne treats these three things like people. What do poison, war, and sickness have in common? Easy: they all kill lots
and lots of people. Moreover, they are all generally considered bad or painful ways to die.
Lines 11-12
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
In lines 5-6, the speaker argues that death will be just like sleep, except even better. But, now, he’s all, "Who needs Death anyway? If I want to sleep really well, I can just use drugs and magic
charms!" This seems to conflict with the idea that Death is supposed to be way more pleasurable than sleep, but who cares? The speaker’s on a roll, and doesn’t have time to think about whether
his arguments make perfect sense. When you’re trying to insult someone, it’s more important to be clever and think on your feet. The "poppy" is a flower used to make opium, an old-fashioned
drug that makes people really happy, but also turns their skin yellow. In fact, drugs and magic charms work even "better" than Death at bringing on sleep. (We’re like: and you know this how?)
And, "stroke" is another interesting word. It could refer to "stroking" someone, like one might stroke a child’s head to put him to sleep. Or, it could refer to the "stroke" of a sword, which is
bviously much more violent. Or, it could imply the "stroke" of a clock at the exact moment of death. Totally demolishing Death’s claim to be the ultimate sleep aid, the speaker puts Death in his
place, telling him not to "swell" with pride. This rhetorical question culminates the poem’s entire argument up to this point.
Lines 13-14
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Donne, and the Metaphysical Poets in general, are masters of the surprise ending, and this one is no exception. First, he returns to the idea of death as "sleep," which gets a bit more complicated
here because he gives a time-frame: it’s a "short sleep." In traditional Christian theology, it is thought that, when people died, it is like they are asleep until the end of the world or Judgment Day.
At this point, Jesus wakes everyone up to lead them to Heaven, where they will spend eternity. Therefore, when the Apocalypse happens and the world ends, there isn’t any more death. All good
Christians will have eternal life in Heaven. The poem’s final words seal the deal: "Death, thou shalt die." If this is an action movie, this is be the witty line the hero says right before wasting the
villain, like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s "Hasta la vista, baby," in Terminator 2. And, by the way, it also makes no sense on a literal level. Assuming Death does not kill himself, who’s going to kill
him other than, um, Death? Clearly, the final "die" just means that he won’t exist anymore. It’s a classic Metaphysical Poet move to end a poem on a line that seems to contradict itself. But, he
sure got the better of that chump, Death.
Symbol Analysis
Death is a total poser in this poem, like a schoolyard bully who turns out not to be so tough, after all. The speaker even makes death out to be a good thing, because it leads to the new life of
Christian eternity. Plus, everyone bosses Death around, from kings to suicidal people. Finally, a lot of the poem’s wit comes from combining literal and symbolic uses of the words "death" and
die."
Lines 1-2: This has got to be one of the most famous examples of personification and apostrophe in all of poetry. The speaker treats death like a person who is considered "mighty"
and "dreadful," which is personification. And, he addresses this person-like Death directly, even though Death obviously can’t respond, which is apostrophe. Lines 3-4: Donne uses
apostrophe again to address, "poor Death," which is an embarrassing and condescending way to talk to someone who considers himself a tough-guy. Lines 5-6: In this metaphor,
he calls rest and sleep "pictures" of Death. They don’t have photographs in Donne’s age, so "pictures" just refers to imitations, like a drawing or a painting. Lines 7-8: Continuing
the personification of Death, the speaker says that good people allow death to lead them out of their earthly lives. The bones of the "best men" are a synecdoche, because they
actually stand for the whole physical body. Line 8, then, draws a standard religious contrast between body and soul. Line 12: We often talk about people who "swell" with pride,
and that’s what’s going on here, when the speaker asks, "Why swell’st thou then?" This is a rhetorical question, designed to make Death realize that he has no reason to be proud.
Line 14: He uses the concept of death three ways in this trickyline. First, there is real, physical death (the second word of the line). Then, there is the personified idea of Death.
Finally, there is death as a metaphor for simple non-existence – something that ceases to be there – which the last word "die" references.
Rest and Sleep

Symbol Analysis
Donne didn’t invent the comparison between death and sleep, but he uses it here to great effect. But, you have to know a tiny bit of Christian theology to fully understand the idea. It is thought
that, when faithfulChristians die, they are only "dead" until the Day of Judgment comes and Christ returns to Earth. They compare this length of time to a period of "sleep." At this point, time
ends, eternity begins, and all the faithful Christians who died will "wake up" to be led into Heaven. At this point, all their earthly troubles are over for good, and they will be at "rest" with

God.Line 5: This metaphor compares "rest" and "sleep" to "pictures," like a painting or drawing. The point is that the rest and sleep are pale imitations, and Death is the real thing. On the other
hand, Death is only a much stronger version of sleep, and not something scary and different. Line 8: This line describes what the experience of death means to the "best men" of line 7. One of
its meanings is eternal rest for their weary bodies, or "bones." Line 11: The comparison between Death and sleep becomes an extended metaphor at this point. The speaker says that, if he only
wants a really good sleep, he doesn’t even need Death; he can use "poppies" (opium, a kind of drug) or "charms" (magic or potions). Line 13: The extended metaphor continues. He calls the time
between the speaker’s death and the Day of Judgment a "short sleep." In human terms, this may not seem that short (we can assume the speaker is "asleep" for hundreds of years already), but,
compared to Eternity, pretty much anything is short. When the speaker "wakes up," he will find himself in Heaven.

Death's Friends and Masters

Symbol Analysis
Death hangs out with a bad crowd, like the kids who hang out behind the bleachers and try to talk you into vandalizing things on Halloween. Unfortunately, they aren’t cool at all. They’re big
losers, in fact, and Death knows it – which is why it’s such an insult when the speaker points out Death’s connection to poison, war, and sickness. And, that’s not all. Death – this big strong guy –
isn’t even his own master! All these other people tell him what to do. It’s like when you learn that the bully who torments you at school actually has his own bullies in the next grade up. It may
not prevent your daily beatings, but it makes you feel a whole lot better about it.

Line 9: This metaphor calls Death a "slave" to "fate, chance, kings, and desperate men." Implicitly, all these things are personified as Death’s master. Line 10: Although it’s not as obvious as in
other parts of the poem, we think "poison, war, and sickness" are personified as thugs, or worthless individuals.
Birth

Symbol Analysis
There’s only one example, and it’s a play on words, but we wanted to give Birth a little love, too, because it’s nothing but Death, Death, Death for most of the poem.
Line 8: It’s a pun! Sweet! To "deliver" someone can mean to set them free, as in the Lord’s Prayer: "Deliver us from evil...." But, the speaker also wants to be "delivered" into the afterlife, like a
baby is "delivered" into the world during birth. The comparison of death to rebirth is such a common metaphor that we rarely even think of it as a being a metaphor.

Speaker Point of View

Who is the speaker, can she or he read minds, and, more importantly, can we trust her or him? The speaker of this poem finds himself in something like a David and Goliath situation. You might
remember David from the Bible: he’s the skinny kid from Israel who takes down the biggest, meanest giant in the land with only a slingshot. The speaker doesn’t even have a slingshot – he only
has his wit, or the ability to talk circles around his enemies. He’s got all the verbal tools: apostrophe, rhetorical questions, puns – the whole nine yards.

The speaker of the poem believes himself to be a good Christian, so he's confident he’ll eventually make it to Heaven. Even so, Death is nothing to sneeze at. The speaker sounds confident, even
cocky, when he tells Death that he isn’t so "mighty and dreadful." But, despite this appearance, the speaker must be quaking in his boots. He has to summon all of his courage just to keep it
together. If he shows anyweakness, he knows that Death will pounce all over him.
By the time the poem takes a "turn" in line 9 (as any good Petrarchansonnet will do), the speaker really lays into Death, calling him a slave and making fun of his friends. We imagine he’s right
up in Death’s grill at this point, poking his finger in his chest. Fortunately, he ends the poem on a killer line about how Death will die. This probably leaves Death scratching his bony little head.
And, as is always best to do when you tell off someone bigger than you, we imagine that the speaker doesn’t stick around for when Death finally comes to again. He gets the heck out of there.
John Donne shifted dramatically in his life: The early Donne was the passionate lover and rebel of sense; the later Donne, a man consumed with his own spiritual journey and search for truth.
Donne is known as the first and greatest of metaphysical poets—those of a genre in which “the most heterogeneous ideas are yoked by violence together; nature and art are ransacked for
illustrations, comparisons, and allusions,” as essayist and critic Samuel Johnson put it.
 
Here, Donne has taken a Romantic form and transformed a transcendental struggle of life and death into a quiet ending, one in which death “shall be no more.”
 
Where Johnson spied cumbersome force, Donne’s style dazzles with soft and calm brilliance, even in the cascade of calumnies against the great “equalizer” Death. “Fate, chance, kings and
desperate men” are yoked together, not in bondage but in freedom, in their power to inflict and manipulate death at will. The panorama of life and legacy has overcome death time and again, yet
Donne expounds the expansive exploitation of death in one verse.
 
It is the will of man that triumphs over the cessation of life, the will to believe in what cannot be seen, to dismiss “poor death” as mere “pictures” compared to the substance of life infused with
the Spirit.
 
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee/Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
No bragging rights for Death, according to the poet, who in the first two lines of his sonnet denounces in apostrophe the end of life, “not proud,” “not so.”
“Mighty and dreadful,” two weighty terms, do not belong nor confer any majesty on death. “Thou are not so.” A simple statement, a certain indictment, and the poet has dispensed with Death,
who is ponderous, no preposterous for the previous fears His presence has impressed on mankind.
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow?/Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
In this neat conceit, Death himself is fooled, limited by the surface. “Thou think’st thou dost overthrow,” the monarch of destruction is an impoverished exile, removed forever more from the
room of imperious prominence. “Poor death” is now the object of pity, the last enemy that will be thrown into the lake of fire.
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.
The poet compares death not to a savage desecration, nor a fatal, final battle, but instead an extension of any easy rest, one from which a man receives “much pleasure.” ”Rest and sleep” as
“pictures,” the poet condescendingly remarks, bring death into the secondary status of demeaning dimension. Men’s bones receive a welcome respite, and their soul the final delivery from this
earth. Death has nothing to brag about, for death is put in comparison with rest, with sleep, with regenerative silence. Death does not catch the prey of frail men, but instead sets men free, and
without fail.
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?
Here, death as deemed a slave, a unique trope, one, which the poet fashions with wit and wisdom. “Fate” is far greater the force than the end of life which menaces many men. “Chance” is a
game, a mere trifle, a toy which men gamble with, whether ending their fortunes or their lives. “Kings” put evil rebels, madmen, and threats to the state, to death. No one escapes the justice, the
rule, the righteousness of the king, who even in passing, his dynasty passes on: “The King is dead. Long live the King!” is proclaimed from death to life, where the children of yesteryear become
the rulers of today and the progenitors of the future. Death, mere bystander, ushers in the transitions of power.
As for the company of death, the poet outlines simply “poison,” natural or otherwise, which can slay a man in minutes or in hours. Poisons which have ended kings and queens, eradicated vermin
and other pestilences, even drugs which prosper and prolong life began as poisons which in improper doses kill, and quickly.
Whether the vain ragings of craven men or glory on the battlefields, “war” covers a range of reigns and rights, ponderings and possibilities. Death is not even a scavenger, but a frustrated element
pushed to the limit, expected to do the bidding of the common folk and the ruling elite, the final weapon which man overcomes even in being overcome.  In war, where men die for country, they
live forever in the memory of their countrymen, mocking Death who has aided their eternity.
“Sickness” is the necessary pause for men who cannot contain their passions, for the growing race of human beings who run the race with no thought to running out. Sickness is the crucial agent
that brings a long and much-needed arrest to those who inflict harm on their bodies, who resist the bounds of natural appetite. Sickness also is the final sign, the moments when a man who
departs knows well that his time is short, and so the stultifying stops of pains and coughs at least buy him time to say “good-bye.”
“Poppy or charms can make us sleep as well.” “As well” communicates “in comparison” and “in addition,” gaily sporting with the super-abounding grace of nature’s wonders, which man has
contrived to ease his pain and quicken his rest. “Poppy” is a joyful word, a colorful, childlike flower winding away with careless wonder in the wind. “Charms,” whether magical or romantic, are
bewitching and bewailing, at least for the one who has fallen beneath their spell. Sometimes, the simple charm of a smiling face suffices more, traced with the soft face of a poppy gladly handed
to a loved one. And so, Death is outdone once again!
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
“Sleep” appears again, but not in conjunction with rest; instead, rest leads to life eternal, where man will no longer need to rest, fashioned as he will be in a body that does not age, that will never
flag or fail, Donne decrees. Death is further impoverished, ruined, left desolate. Man in eternal life witnesses death succumbing to himself. “Death shall be no more,” the poet proudly yet dulcetly
declares, not even bothering to speak to death. So certain, so final, so enriched with vigor, the poet then whispers, yet loudly of the import of the paradox: “Death, thou shalt die.”