A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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Heaven is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That ‘heaven’ is, to me.
The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind, –
There Paradise is found!
Podcast music by Barry Phillips
Forbidden fruit a flavor has
That lawful orchards mocks;
How luscious lies the pea within
The pod that Duty locks!
Podcast music by Antonio Meneses
Hope is a subtle glutton;
He feeds upon the fair;
And yet, inspected closely,
What abstinence is there!
His is the halcyon table
That never seats but one,
And whatsoever is consumed
The same amounts remain.
Podcast music by Clair Fitch
Superiority to fate
Is difficult to learn.
‘T is not conferred by any,
But possible to earn
A pittance at a time,
Until, to her surprise,
The soul with strict economy
Subsists till Paradise.
Podcast music by Barry Phillips
‘T is little I could care for pearls
Who own the ample sea;
Or brooches, when the Emperor
With rubies pelteth me;
Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines;
Or diamonds, when I see
A diadem to fit a dome
Continual crowning me.
Podcast music by Antonio Meneses
Lay this laurel on the one
Too intrinsic for renown.
Laurel! veil your deathless tree, –
Him you chasten, that is he!
Podcast music by Antonio Meneses
After a hundred years
Nobody knows the place, –
Agony, that enacted there,
Motionless as peace.
Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
At the lone orthography
Of the elder dead.
Winds of summer fields
Recollect the way, –
Instinct picking up the key
Dropped by memory.
Podcast music by Monks and Choirs of Kiev Pechersk Lavra
I think just how my shape will rise
When I shall be forgiven,
Till hair and eyes and timid head
Are out of sight, in heaven.
I think just how my lips will weigh
With shapeless, quivering prayer
That you, so late, consider me,
The sparrow of your care.
I mind me that of anguish sent,
Some drifts were moved away
Before my simple bosom broke, –
And why not this, if they?
And so, until delirious borne
I con that thing, — “forgiven,” –
Till with long fright and longer trust
I drop my heart, unshriven!
Podcast music by Barry Phillips
