The Great Poets : Emily Dickinson - CD (audiokniha)

Born in Massachusetts in 1830, Emily Dickinson composed over 1770 poems, but apart from her closest friends, no-one knew she was writing at all. Only after her death was her astonishing output discovered and published.

A reclusive figure for much of her life, few could have imagined the range of her subjects, the intensity of her imagination or the powerful delicacy of her writing. Emily Dickinson is one of America’s greatest writers. This selection includes 147 of her best known poems, and is a perfect introduction to her unique voice. A drop fell on the apple tree A narrow Fellow in the Grass A poor torn heart, a tattered heart A something in a summer’s day A still – Volcano – Life – A toad can die of light! A wounded deer l eaps highest After great pain, a formal feeling comes – All the letters I can write Ample make this bed As imperceptibly as Grief Because I could not stop for Death Come slowly, Eden! Dear March, come in! Death is a dialogue between Drowning is not so pitiful Eden is that old fashioned House Fame is a fickle food Forbidden fruit a flavor has Glee! The great storm is over – He ate and drank the precious words He touched me, so I live to know Hea rt not so heavy as mine Heart! We will forget him! Her final summer was it Hope is the thing with feathers How the old Mountains drip with Sunset I asked no other thing I can wade grief I cannot live with you I died for beau ty, but was scarce I dreaded that first Robin, so I dwell in Possibility – I envyseas whereon he rides I felt a Funeral, in my Brain I gave myself to him I had no cause to be awake I had no time to hate, because I have no li fe but this I hide myself within my flower I know some lonely houses off the road I many times thought peace had come I meant to have but modest needs I never saw a moor I should not dare to leave my friend I stepped from plank to plank I taste a liquor never brewed I think the hemlock likes to stand I tookmy power in my hand If I can stop one heart from breaking If recollecting were forgetting I’ll tell you how the Sun rose I’m Nobody! Who are you?<br >It might be easier It tossed and tossed It was not Death, for I stood up It’ssuch a little thing to weep Love is anterior to life Mine by the right of the white election! Much madness is divinest sense My Life had stood – a Lo aded Gun Nature rarer uses yellow Not with a Club, the Heart is broken On thiswondrous sea One blessing had I, than the rest One need not be a chamber – to be Haunted Pain has an element of blank, Safe in their Alabaster Chamber s Some keep the Sabbath going to church Surgeons must be very careful That after Horror – that ’twas us – That I did always love The brain within its groove The Dying need but little, Dear The grass so little has to do, The grave my little cottage is The leaves, like women, interchange The one that couldrepeat the summer day The rat is the concisest tenant. The Soul has Bandaged moments The soul should always stand ajar, The waters chased him as he fle d The way I read a letter’s this: The wind begun to rock the grass There came a Wind like a Bugle – There’s a certain slant of light, There’s been a death in the opposite house They might not need me – yet they might – This is m y letter to the world, This World is not Conclusion. ’Tis little I could care for pearls ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so – ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch, Unable are the Loved to die We never know we go, – when we are going<br >What inn is this While I was fearing it, it came, Will there really be a morning? You left me, sweet, two legacies, –