If you heard the slow methodic steps of horses, the soft squeaks of wheels rolling ceaselessly in your direction, and with a turn of the head, you noticed death was at the reins—would you be content? In Emily Dickinson’s poem, “Because I could not stop for Death,” imagery is used to illustrate a woman’s acceptance of the afterlife. Through positive images, Dickinson touches our senses and unfolds a cycle of events in a carriage ride with the Grim Reaper; fortunately for the reader—Dickinson has left us an empty seat.
A positive connotation is employed in the first stanza of the poem through a simple economy of words. Dickinson writes, “Because I could not stop for Death— / He kindly stopped for me—” (lines 1-2). These two lines set the overall tone of the poem: that of acceptance. In the first line our speaker is caught up in the joys of life, and her attempts to avoid death are obvious—not stopping for him. It is in the second line, with the word “kindly” (2) that we feel a sense of humility. Here the speaker is embarrassed, and we the reader blush with her—for no one escapes the inevitable.
The image of the carriage represents the end result of our lives; symbolic of the ferryman we all pay to cross the river into the afterlife. The carriage further embodies a characteristic aura of safety. It is a comfortable, slow, and simple mode of transportation; fitting in nicely as a “literal” vehicle to push the tone of the speaker’s willingness to ride with death. This powerful image is pursued further through an equally powerful word: “Immortality” (4). The term suggests that the speaker’s life is unfinished—that more awaits her in the spirit world. We come to the realization that she is unafraid through the serene nature of her actions, as well as those of Death. Dickinson writes, “We slowly drove—he knew no haste / And I had put away / My labor and my leisure too” (5-7). There is a clear relationship between the speaker and death, in that both are teammates not wanting to upset each other through their actions. Death does not ride the carriage harshly, which would strike fear in our speaker, and in return our speaker gives death her undivided attention.
Dickinson throws in physical settings to add to the overall atmosphere of acceptance, striking our senses hard with sound. Dickinson inks, “We passed the School, where Children strove / At Recess—in the Ring—” (9-10). The lines create a sad impression of her past, for she is now a mere observer of life—not a participant. The sound of the children laughing at recess causes us to wonder if she was a school teacher watching her pupils play, or, if indeed this vision was of her own childhood—seeing herself as a little girl unaware of the brevity of life.
As if the sound of children at play wasn’t enough, Dickenson attacks our senses of smell and sight to personify the peaceful acceptance of the speaker. Dickinson writes, “We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain— / We passed the Setting Sun—” (11-12). Both images are golden in color, and both communicate the cycle of life—for the wheat is portrayed with human qualities, “Gazing Grain” (11) dependent on the warmth and light of the sun for its vitality, and in return the “Setting Sun” (12) represents a cycle’s end. The two images connect to the speaker, for she too was once dependent on the wheat which gave her body vitality, but now like the setting sun, in death—she must eventually rise again.
It is in the last stanza we see this rebirth in our speaker. Dickinson writes,
Since then—’tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity— (21-24)
The images offer us a speaker who has become death and is reflecting, centuries later, upon her life on earth. Time holds no significance for her anymore because life is cyclical—it is everlasting.
It is in Emily Dickinson’s use of imagery that we view a woman calmly accepting the next stage of her journey—that of the afterlife.
Work Cited
Dickinson, Emily. “Because I Could Not Stop For Death.” Literature: Reading, Reacting, Writing. 6th ed. Ed. Laurie G. Kirszner and Stephen R. Mandell. Australia: Thompson, 2007. 954.
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