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    Emily Dickinson - The Chariot

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    poetictouch

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    Emily Dickinson - The Chariot - Read by Nikolle Doolin

    The Chariot
    by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

    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.