Sunday, 12 September 2010

My Emily

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 strove
At recess, in the ring;
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 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

by Emily Dickinson


Anonymous said...

I'm curious about how you mean the title (My Emily) in connection with the poem, "Because I could not stop for Death." You are certainly a talented weber. I, too, really like that poem. I'd love to know how someone like yourself who is so tech-savvy connects with this particular poem. All the best, Lois

Mana said..., I studied her to death at school. She had a big impact on me. I related to the darkness and innocence.