Explore "The Chariot" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.