Three songs of death

The last night that she lived,
It was a common night,
Except the dying; this to us
Made nature different. 

We noticed smallest things, -
Things overlooked before,
By this great light upon our minds
Italicized, as 't were. 

That others could exist
While she must finish quite,
A jealousy for her arose
So nearly infinite. 

We waited while she passed;
It was a narrow time,
Too jostled were our souls to speak,
At length the notice came. 

She mentioned, and forgot;
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water, shivered scarce,
Consented, and was dead. 

And we, we placed the hair,
And drew the head erect;
And then an awful leisure was,
Our faith to regulate.

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

Because I [could]1 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 labour, and my leisure too
For His Civility --

We passed the school, where children played,
[ At wrestling in a ring]2
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,
The cornice but a mound.

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