Emily Dickensen
Because I could not stop for death-
He kindly stopped for me-
The Carriage held but just Ourselves-
And Immortality.
We slowly drove-He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For his Civility-
We passed the School, where Children strove,
At Recess-in the Ring-
We passed the Feilds of Gazing Grain-
We passed the Setting Sun-
Or rather-He passed Us-
The Dews drew quivering and chill-
For only Gossamer, my Gown-
My Tippet-only Thulle-
We passed before a house that seemed
A Sweeling of the Ground-
The Roof was scarcely visible-
The Cornice-in the Ground-
Since then-'tis Centuries-and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity-
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