By Tracie Lin
Faculty Peer Reviewed
DEATH, be not proud, though some have callèd 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 soul’s deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,…