712 BY EMILSON DICKINSON(1830-1886)

                                            Because I could not stop for the 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 the 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 & chill-

                                             For only Gossamer, my Gown -

                                             My tippet - only Tulle-

                                             We paused before 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 towards Eternity-