Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are 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.
 
 
Sonnet XIV 
Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; 
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me and bend 
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end; 
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
 But is captived, and proves weak or untrue. 
 
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy 
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
 Take me to you, imprison me, for I 
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Sonnet X 
Hymn To God, My God, in My Sickness 
Since I am coming to that holy room
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore
 I shall be made thy music, as I come 
I tune the instrument here at the door, 
And what I must do then, think here before.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed, 
that by them may be shown 
That this is my southwest discovery,
Per Fretum Febris, by these straits to die, 
I joy that in these straits I see my west;
For though their currents yield return to none,
 What shall my west hurt me? As west and east 
In all flat maps (and I am one) are one, 
So death doth touch the resurrection. 
Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are
The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem? Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,
All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.
We think that Paradise, and Calvary,
Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place;
 Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me; 
As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face, 
May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace. 
So, in his purple wrapp'd receive me, Lord,
By these his thorns give me his other crown;
And as to others' souls I preached thy word, 
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own: 
"Therefore, that he may raise, the Lord throws down."