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