Emily Dickinson
I died for beauty—but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When one who died for Truth, was lain
In the 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 a Night—
We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up—our names—