It was too late for man
It was too late for man, / But early yet for God;
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 't is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
THE LOST JEWEL - I held a jewel in my fingers
I held a jewel in my fingers / And went to sleep.
HUNGER - I had been hungry all the years
I had been hungry all the years; / My noon had come, to dine;
THERE is another Loneliness
THERE is another Loneliness / That many die without,