Table of Contents
In the early 1863, Emily Dickinson wrote the poem “Because I could not stop for death.” The speaker of the poem describes how “Death,” portrayed as a “kindly” gentleman, visited her and offered to take her for a trip in his carriage. The speaker appears to be riding through portrayals of the many stages of life until coming to a stop at what is probably her own funeral. A Christian afterlife in paradise can be anticipated in the poem.
About The Poet
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson is a poet from the United States. Although she was not well-known when she was alive, she is now acknowledged as one of the most significant figures in American poetry. Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, to a well-known family.
Theme Of The Poem
The song “Because I could not stop for death” explores both the certainty of death and the unforeseen things that occur after someone dies. Themes in this poem include afterlife, vagueness, and a slight air of mystery.
Because I could not stop for Death— He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Ourselves— And Immortality.
A chariot ride occurred because it is the woman’s time to pass away, not because she wants it to happen, as the first stanza quite interestingly indicates. Death has a duty to stop for her because she “could not stop for Death” and very few individuals would choose to do so. As she boards Death’s chariot, the woman makes a more puzzling discovery. She describes those in the vehicle, saying that in addition to herself and Death, “Immortality” is present as well.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility—
Death wasn’t in a hurry as they travelled at a comfortable pace. To honour his courteous attitude and his invitation to escort her, the lady had left all of her duties and pleasures behind.
We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess—in the Ring— We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain— We passed the Setting Sun—
They passed a school where kids were seated in a circle playing during lunchtime. Then they moved past farms that appeared to be staring at them as well as the setting sun.
Or rather—He passed us— The Dews drew quivering and chill— For only Gossamer, my Gown— My Tippet—only Tulle—
The sun actually passed them, not the other way around. Dew began to develop as it did so, shivering and freezing. Because she was only dressed in a flimsy gown and a thin scarf, the speaker was also cold.
We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground— The Roof was scarcely visible— The Cornice—in the Ground—
Their next visit was at a building that appeared to be a house but was actually partially buried in the soil. The roof was barely visible to the poet; even the ceiling was submerged beneath the surface.
Since then—’tis Centuries—and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses’ Heads Were toward Eternity—
Several centuries have gone by since that time. The poet suddenly recognized that Death’s horses were riding into immortality, and it seemed like less than a day has passed since her time on the carriage.