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