“I taste a liquor never brewed” (214) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

I taste a liquor never brewed --
From Tankards scooped in Pearl --
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!

Inebriate of air -- I am --
And Debauchee of Dew --
Reeling -- thro' 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!

“All overgrown by cunning moss,” (146) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of "Currer Bell"
In quiet "Haworth" laid.

This Bird -- observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes --
Quietly did the same --

But differed in returning --
Since Yorkshire hills are green --
Yet not in all the nests I meet --
Can Nightengale be seen --

“Success is counted sweetest” (112) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Sucess is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory

As he defeated -- dying --
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers” (254) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

"Hope" is the thing with feathers --
That perches in the soul --
And sings the tune without the words --
And never stops -- at all --

And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --

I've heard it in the chillest land --
And on the strangest Sea --
Yet -- never -- in Extremity,
It asked a crumb -- of me.

“Much Madness is divinest Sense” (620) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Much Madness is divinest Sense --
To a discerning Eye --
Much Sense -- the starkest Madness --
'Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail --
Assent -- and you are sane --
Demur -- you're straightway dangerous --
And handled with a Chain --

“I’m Nobody! Who are you?” (260) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise - you know!

How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell one's name - the livelong June -
To an admiring Bog!

“Wild Nights – Wild Nights!” (269) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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!

“I heard a Fly buzz – when I died” (591) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air -
Between the Heaves of Storm -

The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset - when the King
Be witnessed - in the Room -

I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable - and then it was
There interposed a Fly -

With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -
Between the light - and me -
And then the Windows failed - and then
I could not see to see -

“Because I Could Not Stop for Death” (479) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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

We slowly drove — He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labour and my leisure too,
For His Civility —

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess — in the Ring —
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -
We passed the Setting Sun -

Or rather - He passed us -
The Dews drew quivering and chill -
For only Gossamer, my Gown -
My Tippet - only Tulle -

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground -
The Roof was scarcely visible -
The Cornice - in the Ground-

Since then - ‘tis Centuries - and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity -

“I never saw a moor” (1052) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

I never saw a moor;
I never saw the sea,
 Yet know I how the heather looks
  And what a billow be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven.
 Yet certain am I of the spot
 As if the checks were given.