(Dickinson Emily)

* * *
I felt a cleaving in my Mind -
As if my Brain had split -
I tried to match it - Seam by Seam -
But could not make them fit.

* * *
The thought behind, I strove to join
Unto the thought before -
But Sequence ravelled out of Sound -
Like Balls - upon a Floor.

* * *
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 it is Centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses Heads
Were toward Eternity

* * *
Why do they shut me out of Heaven?
Did I sing too loud?
But I can sing a little "Minor,"
Timid as a Bird!
Wouldn't the angels try me
Just once more
Just see if I troubled them
But don't shut the door,!
Oh, if I were the Gentlemen
In the "White Robes"
And they were the little Hand that knocked
Could I forbid?

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