Listen to the following poems by Emily Dickenson set to music and performed by John O'Keefe.
F 274
(Listen to the MP3)
Again – his voice is at the door –
I feel the old Degree –
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one – as me –
I take a flower – as I go –
My face to justify –
He never saw me – in this life –
I might surprise his eye!
I cross the Hall with mingled steps –
I – silent – pass the door –
I look on all this world contains –
Just his face – nothing more!
We talk in careless – and it toss –
A kind of plummet strain –
Each – sounding – shyly –
Just – how – deep –
The other's one – had been –
We walk – I leave my Dog – at home –
A tender – thoughtful Moon –
Goes with us – just a little way –
And – then – we are alone –
Alone – if Angels are "alone" –
First time they try the sky!
Alone – if those "veiled faces" – be –
We cannot count – on High!
I'd give – to live that hour – again –
The purple – in my Vein –
But He must count the drops – himself –
My price for every stain!
F 764
(Listen to the MP3)
My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun –
In Corners – till a Day
The Owner passed – identified –
And carried Me away –
And now We roam in Sovereign Woods –
And now We hunt the Doe –
And every time I speak for Him –
The Mountains straight reply –
And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the Valley glow –
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through –
And when at Night – Our good Day done –
I guard My Master's Head –
’Tis better than the Eider-Duck's
Deep Pillow – to have shared –
To foe of His – I'm deadly foe –
None stir the second time –
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –
Or an emphatic Thumb –
Though I than He – may longer live
He longer must – than I –
For I have but the power to kill,
Without – the power to die –
F 269
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Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile – the Winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor – Tonight –
In Thee!
F 207
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I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!
Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!
F 271
(Listen to the MP3)
Over the fence –
Strawberries – grow –
Over the fence –
I could climb – if I tried, I know –
Berries are nice!
But – if I stained my Apron –
God would certainly scold!
Oh, dear, – I guess if He were a Boy –
He’d – climb – if He could!
F 473
(Listen to the MP3)
I was the slightest in the House –
I took the smallest Room –
At night, my little Lamp, and Book –
And one Geranium –
So stationed I could catch the Mint
That never ceased to fall –
And just my Basket –
Let me think–I'm sure
That this was all –
I never spoke–unless addressed –
And then, 'twas brief and low –
I could not bear to live–aloud –
The Racket shamed me so –
And if it had not been so far –
And any one I knew
Were going–I had often thought
How noteless–I could die –
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