“It was a quiet way -He asked if I was his -I made no answer of the tongueBut answer of the eyes -And then He bore me onBefore this mortal noiseWith swiftness, as of Chariotsand distance, as of Wheels.This World did drop awayAs acres from the feetof one that leaneth from BalloonUpon an Ether Street.The Gulf behind was not,The Continents were new -Eternity was due.No Seasons were to us -It was not Night nor Morn -But Sunrise stopped upon the placeAnd Fastened in Dawn.”

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.”

“He fumbles at your spiritAs players at the keysBefore they drop full music on;He stuns you by degrees.Prepares your brittle substanceFor the ethereal blowby fainter hammers, further heard,Then nearer, then so slowYour breath has time to straightenYour brain to bubble cool,-Deals one imperial thunderboltThat scalps your naked soul.”

“Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.”

“It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down;It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues, for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,Nor fire, for just my marble feetCould keep a chancel cool.And yet it tasted like them all;The figures I have seenSet orderly, for burial,Reminded me of mine,As if my life were shavenAnd fitted to a frame,And could not breathe without a key;And I was like midnight, some,When everything that ticked has stopped,And space stares, all around,Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,Repeal the beating ground.But most like chaos,--stopless, cool,Without a chance or spar,--Or even a report of landTo justify despair.”

“They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,Like petals from a rose,When suddenly across the luneA wind with fingers goes.They perished in the seamless grass,No eye could find the place;But God on his repealless listCan summon every face”

“Because I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And I had put awayMy 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 seemedA swelling of the ground;The roof was scarcely visible,The cornice but a mound.Since then 'tis centuries; but eachFeels shorter than the dayI first surmised the horses' headsWere toward eternity.”