449 (I died for Beauty—but was scarce)

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 a Night—
We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up—Our names—