John Donne

Busy old fool, unruly sun,

Here take my picture; though I bid farewell

Busy old fool, unruly sun,

Busy old fool, unruly Sun,

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Might and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, not yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but they pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must fl0w, And soonest our best men with t

Busy old fool, unruly sun,

No man is an island,