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
—-Emily Dickinson