Death Be not Proud

Dear readers, my family has suffered a great loss in the death last night of our Mother. She was 92 and gravely ill and while we grieve profoundly, we take great comfort in knowing that she has found the eternal peace of God. Below is my favorite poem about the triumph of eternal faith over death. I will begin posts again on Tuesday. In the meantime, you can browse the archives. And whatever your faith, a prayer or thought for her would be deeply appreciated. Bless you all, Casey-Pops. Death, be not proud By John Donne. --- 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.