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emily dickinson my favorite poet
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,         5 And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility.    We passed the school where children played At wrestling in a ring;         10 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,         15 The cornice but a mound.    Since then ’t is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses’ heads Were toward eternity.         20

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