Death
by Emily Dickinson Because I could not stop for
Death, We slowly drove, he
knew no haste, We passed the
school, where children strove Or rather, he
passed us; We paused before a
house that seemed Since then 'tis
centuries, and yet each Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 � May 15, 1886) was an American poet. While she was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime. Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were turned toward eternity.
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