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Showing posts from February, 2012

The Chariot (Because I Could Not Stop For Death)

By: Emily Dickinson 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 played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible. The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity. - Emily Dickinson