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.

Noon - is the Hinge of Day-.

You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.

Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.

Till I loved I never lived.

Some keep the Sabbath going to church, I keep it staying at home, with a bobolink for a chorister, and an orchard for a dome.

There is always one thing to be grateful for - that one is one's self and not somebody else.