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,--the two are one;
We brethren 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.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Besides This May
- Why Do I Love You, Sir?
- Delight Becomes Pictorial
- Four Trees—upon A Solitary Acre
- I Started Early - Took My Dog