My attempt to read a poem with an American accent. Emily Dickinson - “I died for beauty“ (recited by Elizabeth Pechora) I died for Beauty - but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room - He questioned softly “Why I failed“? “For Beauty“, I replied - “And I - for Truth - Themself are One - We Bretheren, are“, He said - And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night - We talked between the Rooms - Until the Moss had reached our lips - And covered up - Our names
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