The hourglass

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Consider this small dust here running in the glass,

By atoms moved;

Could you believe that this the body was

Of one that loved?

And in his mistress' flame, playing like a fly,

Turned to cinders by her eye:

Yes; and in death, as life, unblessed,

To have it expressed,

Even ashes of lovers find no rest.

Because I could not stop for Death

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--

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