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 strove At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun –
Or rather – He passed Us – The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle –
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity
by Emily Dickenson (1830-1886)
Recommended sermon: How to Benefit from a Funeral, by Dr. David P. Murray
