Poem 449

Emily Dickinson


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 Brethren are," He said--
And so, as Kinsmen, met at Night--
We talked between the Rooms--
Until the Moss had reached our lips--
And covered up--our names--