Death is something no one can escape from. Most people define death as something to be feared or to be horrible. What is death? What become of us after we die? Or is it just extinction, a lapse into nothingness? Or is it just the door way to a new life, a transformation rather than dying. Nobody knew when we will die or how we will die. Death has ever come to be considered somehow "unnatural." As my understanding, everything in the universe, every stars and galaxies are born, live out the natural life span and die. From a purely physical perspective, our bodies are composed of the same material and chemical compound as the same distant galaxies."The human body is composed of some 60 trillion on individual cells, and life is the vital force that harmonizes the infinitely complex functioning of this mind-boggling number of individual cells." So, each moment, untold numbers of cells are dying and being replaced by the birth of new cells. At this level, we daily experience the cycles of birth and death. Most of us try to define the death and we are afraid the unknown death. The way we see on death depend on how we were understanding on self. The purpose of this paper is to reveal how the poets have defined on death and the different perception. Let's consider a well known passage from the bible. “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken; for dust thou art, and unto dust thou return.” This passage suggests that the man’s business that he sinned was a constant pleasure to him; but now his labor will be weariness. The body will be forsaken by the soul, and become itself into a lump of dust, and then it will be ended in the grave, and mingle with the dust of the earth. It reflects William Shakespeare’s Macbeth, which states that people are like poor players, they play for years and years and “Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.” We keep up everyday challenging over old problems and new problems. Referring to Sonnet 12 by William Shakespeare, “When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime” Time is taken away and we are getting older. The period of time is like a “brief candle” whose flame is short lived and all of the sweet and beautiful creatures decay like flowers. The death will come. Death does not discriminate; it strips of us everything. Frame, wealth and powers are all