Invain dickinson ls
In Vain by Emily Dickinson. Read for LibriVox.org by Lee Salter. December 2020. I cannot live with you, it would be life, and life is over there, behind the shelf. The sexton keeps the key to putting up, our life his porcelain, like a cup. Discarded of the housewife, quaint or broken, a newer sevra pleases, old ones crack. I could not die with you, for one must wait. To shut the other's gaze down, you could not.
And I, could I stand by and see you freeze, without my rite of frost, death's privilege. Nor could I rise with you, because your face would put out Jesus that new grace. Glow plain and foreign on my homesick eye, except that you, then he, shone closer by. They'd judge us how, for you served heaven, you know, or sought to, I could not.
Because you saturated sight, and I had no more eyes, for sordid excellence as paradise. And were you lost, I would be, though my name rang loudest on the heavenly fame. And were you saved, and I condemned to be,
where you were not, that self were held to me. So we must keep apart, you there, I hear, with just the door ajar that oceans are, and prayer, and that pale sustenance despair. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. December 2020
