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Poems by Emily Dickinson edit
Because I could not stop for Death edit
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 labour, 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.
A narrow fellow in the grass edit
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,--did you not, His notice sudden is.
The grass divides as with a comb, A spotted shaft is seen; And then it closes at your feet And opens further on.
He likes a boggy acre, A floor too cool for corn. Yet when a child, and barefoot, I more than once, at morn,
Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash Unbraiding in the sun,-- When, stooping to secure it, It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport of cordiality;