Death, thou art slave to fate, chance, Kings, and desperate men.

One of the great 17th century English metaphysical poets, perhaps the most cunning, intelligent and creative of the lot. His Holy Sonnets and other devotional works are among the best in English. He's just so damn clever, if lacking in emotional heft, that his poems are more intellectual exercises than lyrical, poetical expressions. Master of the extended metaphor, to almost dizzying extents, and in total command of his mechanics.

Does anyone else reckon Donne would have been an atheist if he'd been born a few centuries later? I do.