The Chariot

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 't is centuries; but each

Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.