I usually create songs with AI assistance whenever the spirit moves me. Such is the case with this musical interpretation of this famous fourteen-line poem by English poet John Donne (1572-1631), whose wife Anne More is a paternal cousin. Death Be Not Proud (1609) is often referred to as a metaphysical poem because it questions the human fear of death and throws down the gauntlet to Death itself. Here’s the poem followed by two versions of a song with the same title.

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.

(Verse 1)
Death, don’t stand so tall tonight,
Don’t wear that crown of fear and night.
They’ve called you mighty, called you king,
But you’re not all they say you are.
You whisper endings, close the door,
You think you’ve won, you think you score—
But those you claim you’ve taken down
Are breathing still, beyond your reach.

(Pre-Chorus)
You mistake the hush for loss,
You mistake the dark for done.
What you call an ending breath
Is just the turning of the sun.

(Chorus)
Death, be not proud, you have no throne,
No final word, no power of your own.
What looks like falling is rising in disguise—
We close our eyes, but we don’t die.
One short sleep, then light eternal—
Death, you fade, but love survives.

(Verse 2)
From rest and sleep—your pale reflections—
We wake renewed, we wake protected.
If peace is found in simple dreams,
How much more waits beyond your reach?
The best among us leave you fast,
Their bones at rest, their souls unfastened.
You give them nothing—freedom takes them,
Carried where you cannot go.

(Pre-Chorus)
You’re not the master you pretend,
You borrow time, but can’t defend
Against the dawn that always comes,
Against the life that never ends.

(Chorus)
Death, be not proud, you have no throne,
No final word, no power of your own.
What looks like falling is rising in disguise—
We close our eyes, but we don’t die.
One short sleep, then light eternal—
Death, you fade, but love survives.

(Bridge)
You serve the dice of fate and chance,
The orders of the sword and crown.
You walk with war, with poison breath,
With sickness dragging you around.
Yet poppy, prayer, and simple sleep
Can do your work—and do it better.
Why do you swell with borrowed fear
When even dreams outlast your name?

(Break)
You are not the end of us.
You are the pause before the song.

(Final Chorus)
Death, be not proud, your voice is thin,
You knock once—but we don’t let you win.
What you call silence breaks into dawn—
We rise again, we carry on.
One short sleep past, we wake forever—
Death is gone.
And Death, you die.

(Outro)
No grave can hold the endless light.
No night can keep the morning quiet.

Version 1

Version 2