“Two Ghosts Converse”

by 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.


One thought on ““Two Ghosts Converse”

  1. Does the poet strive for beauty or truth? Or both? Or are they one, as her kinsman here seems to think? Are the ghosts themselves in fact one, figments of Dickinson born again through her words? I think so. And I think she wants to believe that honorable lives and names will be remembered, as hers might be, though the separate parts of us—body and mind any anything else—whither away beneath the dark, cold earth. Scary?


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