Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. - Emily Dickinson

I breathed enough to learn the trick,
And now, removed from air,
I simulate the breath so well,
That one, to be quite sure

The lungs are stirless, must descend
Among the cunning cells,
And touch the pantomime himself.
How cool the bellows feels!

VI: A SERVICE OF SONG. Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.
God preaches, — a noted clergyman, — And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last, I’m going all along!

Split the Lark — and you'll find the Music, Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled.