Ruth Bergquist
January 26, 1924- February 17, 2002
Loving Mother


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 paused before a house that seemed
a swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
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.

 

 

 

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