Yesterday was the 7th anniversary of the passing of my dear friend Bob Webber. His widow, Joanne, asked that all who remember him revisit this stirring piece . . . a most poignant one for these 50 days. Rest in peace, dear friend - well see you on the other side! Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art so, For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but they pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, Kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, warre, and sickness dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swellst thou then; One short sleep past, wee wake eternally, And Death shall be no more, death thou shalt die! John Donne 1610 Thanks, Joanne!
Posted on: Mon, 28 Apr 2014 17:59:33 +0000
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