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  ·          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 drew 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 – in the Ground –   Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –

  This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me— The simple News that Nature told— With tender Majesty Her Message is committed                To Hands I cannot see— For love of Her—Sweet—countrymen— Judge tenderly—of Me

  Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.   Not one of all the purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition So clear of victory   As he defeated – dying – On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Burst agonized and clear!

  Whose woods these are I think I know.    His house is in the village though;    He will not see me stopping here    To watch his woods fill up with snow.      My little horse must think it queer    To stop without a farmhouse near    Between the woods and frozen lake    The darkest evening of the year.      He gives his harness bells a shake    To ask if there is some mistake.    The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.      The woods are lovely, dark and deep,    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep.