Because I Could Not Stop for Death
Death arrives as a courteous carriage driver, and the speaker's final ride becomes a quiet meditation on eternity.
by Emily Dickinson · 1890 · Poems: Series 1, 1890 (posthumous) — public domain · medium difficulty
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
by Emily Dickinson · 1890
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 Fields 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 Tulle— We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling 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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