This poem talks about multiple encounters with death that Emily Dickinson experiences. The title of the poem infers that people who die do so because they "stop for it," meaning that they do something that actually brings the death upon them.
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One of my faves.
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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."
I experience this poem through the eyes of someone who is so busy and has not time to die. Dickinson says that Death is not in a hurry. She finally realized that as soon as she put away her work and leisure it was too late. Yet, death took his time and stopped to show her all that surrounds her:
"We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess in the ring
We passed the fields of gazing grain
We passed the setting sun"