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Personally, that was a perfect narration of E. Dickinson’s delicate poems. T. Gallagher did a brilliant job. The poems that appear on the audio were meant to be read in alphabetical order. I had to put semi-colons after the poems because the list is too long; the audio needs indexing badly.
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 thought went up my mind today;
A toad can die of light!; A word is dead; A wounded deer leaps highest; Adrift! A little boat adrift!; After great pain, a formal feeling comes; All the letters I can write; Alter When the hills do; Ample make this bed; Apparently with no surprise; As imperceptibly as Grief
Beauty – be not caused – It Is; Because I could not stop for Death
Come slowly, Eden!
Dear March, come in!; Death is a dialogue between; Drab habitation of whom; Drowning is not so pitiful
Each that we lose takes part of us; Eden is that old fashioned House; Exultation is the going
Fame is a fickle food; Finite to fail but infinite to venture; Forbidden fruit a flavor has; Forever – is composed of Nows
Glee! The great storm is over
He ate and drank the precious words; He fumbles at your Soul; He touched me, so I live to know; Heart not so heavy as mine; Heart! We will forget him!; Heaven is what I cannot reach; Heaven is what I cannot reach!; Hope is a subtle glutton; Hope is the thing with feathers; How happy is the little Stone; How the old Mountains drip with Sunset
I asked no other thing; I bring an unaccustomed wine; I can wade grief; I cannot live with you; I died for beauty, but was scarce; I dreaded that first Robin, so; I dwell in Possibility;
I envy seas 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 never seen “Volcanoes”;I have no life but this; I heard a fly buzz when I died; I hide myself within my flower; I know a place where summer strives; I know some lonely houses off the road; I many times thought peace had come; I meant to find her when I came; 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 took my power in my hand; I went to heaven; If I can stop one heart from breaking; If I may have it when it’s dead; If recollecting were forgetting; If you were coming in the fall; I’ll tell you how the Sun rose; I’m Nobody! Who are you; Is Heaven a physician; It might be easier; It sounded as if the streets were running; It tossed and tossed; It was not Death, for I stood up; It’s such a little thing to weep
Like Rain it sounded till it curved; Love is anterior to life; Luck is not chance
Mine by the right of the white election!; Mine enemy is growing old; Much madness is divinest sense; My life closed twice before its close; My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun
Nature rarer uses yellow; Not knowing when the dawn will come; Not with a Club, the Heart is broken
Of all the souls that stand create; On this wondrous sea; One blessing had I, than the rest; One need not be a chamber – to be Haunted
Pain has an element of blank; Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers; She died – this was the way she died; Some keep the Sabbath going to church; Success is counted sweetest; Surgeons must be very careful
Tell all the truth but tell it slant; That after Horror; That I did always love; That Love is all there is; The brain within its groove; The day came slow till five o’clock; The Dying need but little, Dear; The grass so little has to do; The grave my little cottage is; The heart asks pleasure first; The leaves, like women, interchange; The moon is distant from the sea;
The one that could repeat the summer day; The pedigree of honey; The rat is the concisest tenant; The Soul has Bandaged moments; The soul should always stand ajar; The spider as an artist; The waters chased him as he fled; The way I read a letter’s this; The wind begun to rock the grass; There came a Wind like a Bugle; There is no frigate like a book;
There’s a certain slant of light; There’s been a death in the opposite house; They might not need me – yet they might; They say that ‘time assuages’; This is my letter to the world;
This World is not Conclusion; ‘Tis little I could care for pearls; ‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so; To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee; ‘Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch
Unable are the Loved to die
We never know how high we are; We never know we go, – when are we going; What if I say I shall not wait; What inn is this; Where Thou art – that; While I was fearing it, it came; Wild nights! Wild nights!; Will there really be a morning; You left me, sweet, two legacies
8 of 8 people found this review helpful
It is a pleasure to listen Teresa Gallagher reading Emily Dickinson. There are the most specials poems in this audio.
4 of 5 people found this review helpful
Would you recommend this book to a friend? Why or why not?
Emily Dickinson's poems have no titles, and they range over a wide span of thoughts, often making surprising leaps from verse to verse. That's what's wonderful about them: they're both meditative and unpredictable.
The problem with this recording is that they don't announce the poems - which they could do by number - and it's mixed so that one follows immediately on another. Result: it's very easy to get lost and be unclear on which poem is which. There's no announcement or pause to separate them: they all run together, and unless you happen to already know them all (all 1800-odd of them), it's actually pretty hard to be sure when one poem ends and the next begins.
This is just poor judgement on a technical issue, but they really should have broken them up somehow. As it is I hardly listen to this because it's just too confusing.
3 of 3 people found this review helpful