Because I Could Not Stop For Death, by Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
We slowly drove away, he knew no haste,
And I 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 fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill;
For only gossamer, my gown;
My tippet, only tulle.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarely visable,
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.