Death be not Proud:

DEATH, be not proud, though some have callèd 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 picture be,                  5

Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow;         

And soonest our best men with thee do go—           

Rest of their bones and souls' delivery!         

Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,       

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;          10

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!       

Holy Sonnet 14

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you 
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; 
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me and bend 
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. 
 I, like an usurped town to another due, 
 Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end; 
 Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, 
 But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.

 Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov-ED fain, 
 But am betrothed unto your enemy 
 Divorce me, untie or break that knot again; 
 Take me to you, imprison me, for I 
 Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, 
 Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Paradox    

Self-conscious/Self-questioning

Metaphors/Similies

Abrupt Opening

Witty

Conceit
Biblical Allusions
Contradictions