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The Chariot

 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 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.