Holy Sonnet 10

Since I was first introduced to Derrida in college, I'd wondered what the logical end to post-structuralism must be--simply saying "the void" is too predictable. But if the signifier and referent have no intrinsic relationship, then what are we left with? The language itself and alone. In other words, 20th century lit. criticism just comes full circle back to New Criticism. Formalism. Where we study the beauty of the language itself.

In fact, it takes us back to John Donne--his Holy Sonnets are beauties of language for their own sake. But more importantly, Donne expressed faith in what lies behind language in his Holy Sonnets. For even if language has no intrinsic relationship with the referent, we still live by faith that we are not brains floating in a jar, not projections in someone elses' dream, that there is a reality that corresponds to that language. Donne's Holy Sonnets also express faith that there is a reality behind the dead words on the page.

All of this just a round-about way of introducing Holy Sonnet 10:

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.