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.
I have had a little bit of an Emily Dickinson obsession lately. Just before leaving Johannesburg I bought an old poetry book at Collector’s Treasury and this was the first poem I read in it. Then a few weeks ago walking near Central Park I came across the Strand Bookshop’s little outpost and there is was – a whole collection a Emily Dickinson poems. I think I will post my favorites along with photos from time to time.