Emily Dickinson: The Chariot

This is lovely for the anniversary of her passing. Ironically, though she wrote mostly in the darkness of her upstairs room, the world is a brighter place for her poetry. -KIA

Timeless Poetry

Emily_DickinsonEmily 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.

*Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew 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 but a mound.

Since then ‘t is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886

*Early editors of this poem dropped this fourth stanza

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4 thoughts on “Emily Dickinson: The Chariot

  1. During her lifetime, none of her poems were ever published.

    I’M nobody! Who are you?
    Are you nobody, too?
    Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
    They ’d banish us, you know.

    How dreary to be somebody! 5
    How public, like a frog
    To tell your name the livelong day
    To an admiring bog!
    — Emily Dickinson (1830–86) —

    Liked by 1 person

    • Love the poems. She’s a bit eccentric at times and difficult for me to understand. But that probably just lends to my inability rather than he eloquence


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