” It is difficult/ to get the news from poems/ yet men die miserably every day/ for lack/ of what is found there.”William Carlos Williams, “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower”

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
~John Donne, 1572-1631

We’re back to Donne, but here he’s matured, become concerned with eternity and death and life. If you’ve never seen the movie Wit based on the play by Margaret Edson and starring Emma Thompson as Dr. Vivian Bearing, a professor of metaphysical poetry specializing in the holy sonnets of John Donne, get it. Be prepared to confront death and dying, however, in its plain and poetic pride.

I wrote a little about the movie Wit here.
The DHM says Wit is the best movie she will never, ever watch again. Be warned.