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: : Please I need an ysis of the content of this poem. I'd appreciate it if somebody could help me with it. : : Holy Sonnets: X : : Death be not proud, though some have called 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 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. : : 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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