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
- 'Morning' Means 'Milking' To The Farmer
- Success Is Counted Sweetest
- A Light Exists In Spring
- A Narrow Fellow In The Grass
- 'They Have Not Chosen Me,' He Said