I lifted the book off the shelf and began reading. It was a book of poems and I read them dramatically. We laughed as I enacted the drama of Emily Dickenson's words, at times convinced that Emily was making up words to fit her need.
It was simple pleasure, reading and enjoying poetry. I wonder what life was like when people spent their evenings in parlors reading to each other?
In honor of this fabulous memory I am posting a poem that I loved from that afternoon.
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.