Emily Dickinson
 
712

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 —      

c.1863


 = Tansy Mattingly