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I would not paint — a picture — (poem 505)
by Emily Dickinson
I would not paint — a picture —
I’d rather be the One
Its bright impossibility
To dwell — delicious — on —
And wonder how the fingers feel
Whose rare — celestial — stir —
Evokes so sweet a Torment —
Such sumptuous — Despair —
I would not talk, like Cornets —
I’d rather be the One
Raised softly to the Ceilings —
And out, and easy on —
Through Villages of Ether —
Myself endued Balloon
By but a lip of Metal —
The pier to my Pontoon —
Nor would I be a Poet —
It’s finer — own the Ear —
Enamored — impotent — content —
The License to revere,
A privilege so awful
What would the Dower be,
Had I the Art to stun myself
With Bolts of Melody!
Sheet Music
The White Diadem
Composer(s): Leo Smit
Song(s): 1. I reckon - when I count at all
2. I dwell in Possibility
3. The Martyr Poets - did not tell
4. The Poets light but Lamps
5. I would not paint - a picture
6. To pile like Thunder to its close
7. Me - come! My dazzled face
Voice Type: Mezzo-Soprano, Soprano
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