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: : : I'd appreciate it if I could have a full ysis of this sonnet. THNKS. : : : Death, be not proud, though some have call-ED 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 picture be, : : : Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow; : : : And soonest our best men with thee do go-- : : : Rest of their bones and souls' 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? : : : One short sleep past, we wake eternally, : : : And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!

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