Because I could not stop for Death-
He kindly stopped for me-
The Carriage held but just Ourselves-
A Death blow is a Life blow to Some
Who till they died, did not alive become—
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
Except that it is gone
Are ignorant of its Concern
As if it were not born.
All but Death, can be Adjusted—
Absence disembodies—so does Death
Hiding individuals from the Earth
Death is a Dialogue between
The Spirit and the Dust.
Bereavement in their death to feel
Whom We have never seen—
Death sets a thing significant
The eye had hurried by,
Except a perished creature
Entreat us tenderly
Death is potential to that Man
Who dies—and to his friend—
For Death—or rather
For the Things 'twould buy—
It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down;
It was not night, for all the bells
Put out their tongues, for noon.
Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—
Wait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
To make One's Toilette—after Death
Has made the Toilette cool
Unit, like Death, for Whom?
True, like the Tomb,
The Test of Love—is Death—
Our Lord—"so loved"—it saith—
Till Death—is narrow Loving—
The scantest Heart extant
Love—is that later Thing than Death—
More previous—than Life—
Confirms it at its entrance—And
Usurps it—of itself—
There's been a death in the opposite house
As lately as to-day.
I know it by the numb look
Such houses have alway.
Robbed by Death—but that was easy—
To the failing Eye
The Manner of its Death
When Certain it must die—
Death is like the insect
Menacing the tree,
Competent to kill it,