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 grew 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 but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries,
and yet each Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
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William Sinclair Manson
Welcome friends. My name is William Sinclair Manson. I am 60 years young, I am Scottish but now living in a small village in England. I have been blogging for many Years but recently joined Wordpress and I love it. I have made many new dedicated friends here and hope to meet more around the World.

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