I am your only surviving dress

Emily Dickinson’s only surviving dress at the Amherst Historical Society in Amherst, Mass.

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 drew 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 – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

The photograph is from the new york times article on Pilgrimage
by Annie Leibovitz, which includes images of the television that
Elvis shot, and Virgina Woolf's bedroom, a sombre room which for
some reason reminds me of her suicide and elicits a voice that says
- "see, that's what a room of your own will get you..." (obviously
some heartless character I'm working on is leaking into real life:)

ps...
The Irish Writers Centre Novel fair was on Sat, and it was a really
well run event. It was wonderful to put faces to agents and publishers
that were only contact details and submission guidelines before the day.
Will let you know how The Herbalist fares:)