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 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 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.
Tags: death emily-dickinson
A precious, mouldering pleasure ’tis
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,
His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.
His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old
Tags: words reading books poetry literature
The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
Emily DickinsonTags: love
It was a quiet way -
He asked if I was his -
I made no answer of the tongue
But answer of the eyes -
And then He bore me on
Before this mortal noise
With swiftness, as of Chariots
and distance, as of Wheels.
This World did drop away
As acres from the feet
of one that leaneth from Balloon
Upon 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 place
And Fastened in Dawn.
Love can do all but raise the Dead
I doubt if even that
From such a giant were withheld
Were flesh equivalent
But love is tired and must sleep,
And hungry and must graze
And so abets the shining Fleet
Till it is out of gaze.
What inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar traveller comes?
Who is the landlord?
Where are the maids?
Behold, what curious rooms!
No ruddy fires on the hearth,
No brimming tankards flow.
Necromancer, landlord,
Who are these below?
It's all i have to bring today
this and my heart beside
this and my heart and all the fields
and all the meadows wide
be sure to count
should i forget
someone the sum could tell
this and my heart and all the bees
which in the clovers dwell
I see thee better in the dark
I do not need a light.
Los que son amados no pueden morir,
Porque amor significa inmortalidad.
I believe in possibility.
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