—

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste, 
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

—

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

—

And bending down beside the glowing bars, 
  Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled  
  And paced upon the mountains overhead, 
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

How many loved your moments of glad grace,        
  And loved your beauty with love false or true; 
  But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, 
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep 
  And nodding by the fire, take down this book, 
  And slowly read, and dream of the soft look 
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

—

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at…

—

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any - lifted from the no
of all nothing - human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?