 The Cavalcade of America, presented by Dupont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. The Cavalcade of America presents an original play with verse by Norman Watson, Wait for the Morning, interpreting the romance of Emily Dickinson, the New England poet whose lyric voice, speaking for all lovers, left an authentic American imprint upon the literature of the world. To portray the role of Emily Dickinson, we present a talented young actress from our Cavalcade players. Her name is Anne Starrett, and in this her first starring role, we know you will join the Cavalcade of America in wishing her success. Our Cavalcade orchestra and the original musical score are under the direction of Don Buries. Dupont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Anne Starrett as Emily Dickinson on the Cavalcade of America. Once upon a time, a century ago, or was she forever with us, lived Emily Dickinson. She was a little sad and a little happy, and left her record of her heart for all to read. A century ago, Emily, dressed in gray, seated at her desk in her lonely house, with the tall trees whispering her secrets upon the roof, and the wind blowing, the endless wind through the trees. Emily with her small, beautiful face, with her eyes turned inward upon her soul, Emily's voice with the quality of angels. How long I have not seen your face, and though it is not far, can a heart compute in distances its longing for a star or joy? How can I blow upon the little fires of memory, making them burn again even now, even in this late year? Listen how the wind, the same green wind returns again to the trees that stand guard about this empty house. Soon it will be spring again, April, the month of flower, or George. George, it was April when we met, wasn't it? I write this letter to you through tears, but I know I will never send it. It is late now for passion. Only remembrance is left for us. Well, you would have us ever forget that day long ago when I went walking through the forest, telling my poems to the wind and the sky, and I felt somehow that God too was listening. Oh, you poor dog, you want to talk, don't you? You want to tell me how lovely it is here in the forest? You'd like to describe it, wouldn't you? Well, I'll say it for you. Where does the sunset go at night? How does the morning feel so light and always very new? Tell me how quick the dawn awaits. Tell me from where the painter takes his lovely morning blues. Good afternoon. Oh, but where did you... Behind that tree. I wanted to hear how your last rhyme would come out. Oh, I see. And? It came out fine. Now, it's perhaps a little polishing on that poem. I'm very sorry, but you'll have to excuse me. Oh, you're not leaving. Please don't. If you'll stay, I'll introduce myself and explain myself. Do you live in that tree all the time? Oh, I know. Are you a hermit? No, you see... You must be a literary critic who's lost his way. Well, I'm... Yes, you are. I can tell by your confused expression. All critics have it. And it's really nothing to be ashamed of. Now, hold on. I can leave Cato here with you. He'll lead you back. Goodbye. Please, one moment, Emily Dickinson. How do you know my name? Well, at least that's a civil question. If you put your dog at ease, you shall be answered. Oh, kiddo down. He's awfully harmless until he bites. This youth is the only one I have, and Cato wouldn't do it any good. I'm sorry. I take it all back about you being a critic. And I take back that snipe against your poem. You write? Not poetry. I'm studying for the ministry. You must be a poet then, to study God. May I call you Emily? Where are you from? Academy, across the lake. You're not allowed here, you know. Well, I'm here. I could report you. I could return tomorrow. And then you'd only have to report me all over again. Well, I won't report you. Then I'll return tomorrow. I can't promise to be here. We could meet and read together. I'd like to hear whatever you've written. I'd like to sit under the trees and listen to you read, Emily. My name is George Gould. Are you going to report me? No, George Gould. Oh, not for a while. And one thing more, young ladies. Remember to conduct yourselves with propriety as befitting the gentle women of this school. No one is to leave the grounds without permission. Furthermore, we definitely discourage students of the Mount Holyoke female seminary from going on sleigh rides with boys from the academy. This missed. Uh, Miss Dickinson, would you please say... Emily, it has come to my attention that you're taking walks outside the grounds unshaperoned. Well, you see, I go to the woods to collect flown. And meanwhile your interest in the school's social functions has been generally neglectful. Everyone has turned in the name of a escort for the school dance, but you... What have you to say? Come now, Emily. Don't stand there. Well, I... I didn't think of it. Have you an escort? Well, yes. I have, yes. His name is George... Mr. George Gould. I'm as George Gould. Meet me at sunrise or sunset or the new moon. The place is immaterial. In gold or in purple or sackcloth. In sunshine or storm, in heaven or earth, I'm how I know how. I suppose, sir, to have you escort me to our dance. You won't come, not with that invitation. You'll be frightened away. I would. I thought divinity students didn't even bounce the quadrilles. And especially those who wear patch trousers. And what's wrong with patch trousers? What if he hasn't any gentlemen's clothes? He'll get out all of you. Well, Miss Dickinson, we are surprised. We hardly suspect. George, you'll understand my letter. I don't care what they say. And you will come. You will come. And the biggest surprise of all, George, was your dancing. I had no idea. Emily, are you very cold? Could you stand here for a moment while I ask you something? What is it, George? I... well... I know you for some time now. Well, you see... after I leave school... after you leave school... Yes, we'll both be leaving, won't we? That's exactly my point. We'll both be leaving. George, I'm cold standing still. We'd better walk. Emily. Yes? Let's keep on walking, no matter what I say. Oh, it's really a glorious evening. The stars seem frozen in a large blue lake. Since I'll be leaving in a few weeks, I thought I'd have... Bear itself has the kind of snowflake taste to it. Emily, will you please listen? George, you do look as if you've been wanting to say something. Yes, I do. Will you marry me? Don't shout, George. Stop walking for a moment. Well, you told me to keep on walking, no matter what you say. Well, hold on. I want to kiss you. Oh, and then, Vinny, darling... he turned to me there in the bright moonlight, and he... Well, what, Emily? He kissed me. Oh, Vinny, I shouldn't have, but I did. After it was over, I told myself I shouldn't have. Once it's over, you need to do it all. I wouldn't. It's so good to tell what's in my heart. Sometimes I think it talks while I sleep, and my secret is out. As long as father doesn't listen. George is coming to meet father. He said it's proper. And what else? Tell me what else. You're holding back. You'll know it yourself someday, darling. A huge weight on your heart. And a whole thing like sunlight riding over a storm. And it carries you high. Why, Emily? Are you ill? Father. What's the cause of such unnatural description than before supper? I hope the scheduled arrival of your visitor isn't a blame. Oh, Vinny, go down and help prepare him. Yes, father. Farewell, Emily. Don't paddle, sir, with your romantic nonsense after dinner. I'll go. Oh, Emily, child. You're dressed so brightly for this friend of yours who is tired in his, I might add, doesn't speak too well for his character. Oh, I'm sure he'll be along shortly. Tell me, my dear. We don't seem to talk as much as we used to. Of course, Ben, so exciting. So many new ideas. So many friends. Not too many friends are hardly a virtue. No, but it's so exciting being away from home. Away from home? You like that, huh? Well, yes, father. I mean... Child, I'm a lonely man. This house is very lonely when you're not in it. Who's Vinny? No, you were the first. You have your mother's face. It's your laughter I need. Your footstep on the stairs. He's here. Father, please be nice to him, supper. Please. He's come especially to meet you. Then I shall act honorably. Take my arm and limb. Now, favorite after supper piece, Mr. Gould. Stop winding that ridiculous toy. Yes, papa. After supper, we generally smoke as a garb. Yes, we all do. I mean, I mean, father. The problem of raising two daughters, Mr. Gould, is comparable to the launching of one warship. I should say to that, sir, you've launched a fine one. Someday, father, when women are allowed to vote, you won't be calling them warships. And so, farewell. I'm late for my dancing lesson. Or if I miss you, Gould. Good night. Remember to be in by nine. Don't worry a bit, father. I'm being escorted by girls, which is no fun at all. The time is coming when a woman's place will not be in the home. Well, it won't work. On the contrary, sir, it might work very well. Society needs the contribution of all men or women. But George is going to be a very modern minister. That's right. You see, I plan to travel first. Good. Good, yes. Travel is a fine thing. It takes one away from silly temptations. It's sensible to be alone when you're young. Yes, but the point is, sir, I don't intend to go alone. You see, I'd like to take your daughter. That is young man. Aren't you somewhat over-adventurous? Yes, sir. No, sir, I want to marry Emily. Emily? You want to marry Emily? I do. I forbid you to mention it. But I came here expressly to mention it. George, please. Mr. Gould, your presumptuousness is out of place with your divinity. Divinity be hanged. Mr. Dickinson, I am in love with your daughter. And you, Emily? Come, talk. Yes, father. Surely there's more to it than yes, father. Come, what's between you? Speak. George, please leave. Father's upset. Let me ask just how you intend to support my daughter. Will God to show you a food and warmth? I think not. That's blasphemy. Die in truth through. I think it's time for me to leave. Good day, sir. And Emily, I'll be back. Father. Child. Don't hurt me this way. But I can't send him from me. I mustn't. No, father. No. Little while only. Little while. I need your heart, your warm heart to comfort me in this lonely house. Am I to put my heart away and seal it with a chain and let no hand to touch it except that it be mine? Who is to take my honest eyes and introduce his own? No one to teach me of love. I must learn alone. Oh, there you are, Emily. I was just going upstairs to call you. Oh, Emily, my dear. George, I suppose I'll have to go now. I always have to leave when I'd like most to stay. Your sister almost proposed to me as I passed over the threshold. She's very impetuous. Are we impetuous too? George, I didn't know about Father. And now that you know? Let's wait a short while. I think it's best. And then I'm to return to face his new outburst? I believe it's necessary. Well, our love is necessary? If we were to wait. A year isn't too long. But two or three or five. Or I do want to go with you. Far away. So very far. I must leave soon. I'm going abroad. I can't go with you now, George. Father's in poor health. Are we to wait until his life runs out? Don't. Don't let's talk about it. We mustn't think that way. We must not talk. We must not think everything not. Tell me you'll come back later. I do need you. I do love you. Remember that night. The standing in the brown leaves. When I first kissed you. Yes. May I again? Yes, George. Again. And forever. Oh, you miss Emily. Come far and face again and tell by the stamp. Must be nice to have a friend that travels. Excuse me, I'll take the letter, please. Well, here I've been holding it my hands all the time. Well, good day, Miss Emily. Good day. From you, George. Your voice again from across the sea. My dearest Emily. I have not heard from you yet. The seasons pass into one another. Horizons change. Italy is very beautiful. Crossing the mountains one truly felt the nearness of God. But there is no nearness of Emily. Why have you not written these past years? My good friend. My dear. What has happened? I may be returning within another year. Always in your garden, Emma. Good morning to the sunset. Thought I heard you talking to yourself the other day. I was talking to the flowers, Father. I told them the cold is coming again. And it is time to die. The green and yellow and purple must all lie down together. And winter with its white death will cover them all. You're very strange, Emily. Am I? Excuse me. I'd like to go inside now, Father. Where are you going? Upstairs. It's always upstairs. Know what I hope? I hope Father dies. No, Vinnie. Don't say it. Emily. I want to tell you something. Yes. Mr. Gould. George. He's coming back. Yes? To the new church right here in Amherst. Thank you for telling me, Vinnie. And... He's married. Married? I'll stay here with you and I'll copy your verses. And we'll always remain together in this house, always. Vinnie. I read about it. You'd have found out. Yes. I must see him again. Emily. To see him again. Hear his voice. I must. I must. A lovely sermon, Mr. Gould. You delivered it so beautifully. We're so glad you're with us here at Amherst. I believe, Mr. Gould, we're very fortunate to have you. Thank you. It was simply glorious, Mr. Gould. Simply glorious. Thank you. Thank you very much. George. Emily. Yes. It is Emily. How proud I am of you. In your new work. Emily. You're still beautiful. And older. A little. Yes. And older. Both of us. Now that I'm here, I hardly know what to say. Your father? Alive. And your poetry? That's a minor thing. Emily. What have we done with our lives? Don't speak of it, please. We've wandered from each other, like children. We must forget. We must. I've traveled the earth to forget. Only to return again. I hoped. Somehow you're coming back. What can I say now? If hearts were but doors to open and shut, then open again. George, I cannot listen. There is time. And time for us. Let me take your hand. I'm afraid I must say goodbye now. Emily. Time has passed, our star. We cannot call it back. Perhaps one day, when here's great day, we will return to our long ago forest and never be lost again. I wait for the morning. These are thoughts you will never receive, George. But still I sit here, alone in my room, and send them to you. May I tell you something, my dear? And imagine you're here with me. Listening. Time will close these lips and eyes and seal them up with stones. Then these bones you may bury, lower me gently down. If I give up the keys to death, his prisoner to be, I ask your hand upon my heart that I might easily die. Such was the love story of Emily Dickinson from the pain and beauty of her life flowed an imperishable song part of the voice of America. Not perhaps in the great frontier tradition but of the quiet flowering of the spirit which neither time nor traffic can ever erase from this history. And for her genius, which contributed to the artistic mural of our nation, Emily Dickinson takes an honored place in the cavalcade of America. Congratulations and our thanks to Anne Sterrett for her portrayal of Emily Dickinson and to the cavalcade players for their performance of Norman Rustin's Wait for the Morning. And now the star of next week's program, John McIntyre of the cavalcade players. Ladies and gentlemen, next week's cavalcade play is about a man who should have been everybody's grandfather, Benjamin Franklin. Not the signer of the declaration or the great diplomat, but an amusing story told in a whimsical radio drama, Dr. Franklin takes it easy, which highlights some of the good doctor's amazing inventions during the early days of our country. Once more, I am happy to portray the role of Dr. Franklin when cavalcade comes to you again next week. Thank you. For assistance in the preparation of our play, we wish to acknowledge with thanks the biography of Emily Dickinson written by Genevieve Tiger, the life and mind of Emily Dickinson. On the cavalcade of America, Carlyer sending best wishes from Dupont.