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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
At wrestling in a ring;
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.

Emily Dickinson (1830-86)