Poemsby 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, - 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.