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OURCE:
Poems by Emily Dickinson: Edited by Two of Her Friends, Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson.
Third Series. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1896.
    â€œ I died for beauty, but was scarce” (c. 1862)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I died for beauty, but was scarce
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Adjusted in the tomb,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  When one who died for truth was lain
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  In an adjoining room.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  He questioned softly why I failed?
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “For beauty,” I replied.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “And I for truth,—the two are one;
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  We brethren are,” he said.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  And so, as kinsmen met a night,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  We talked between the rooms,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Until the moss had reached our lips,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  And covered up our names.
    S OURCE:
Poems by Emily Dickinson: Edited by Two of Her Friends, Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson.
Second Series. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1892.
    [ Dying] (c. 1862)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I heard a fly buzz when I died;
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  The stillness round my form
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Was like the stillness in the air
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Between the heaves of storm.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  And breaths were gathering sure
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  For that last onset, when the king
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Be witnessed in his power.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I willed my keepsakes, signed away
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  What portion of me I
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Could make assignable,—and then
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  There interposed a fly,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Between the light and me;
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  And then the windows failed, and then
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I could not see to see.
    S OURCE:
Poems by Emily Dickinson: Edited by Two of Her Friends, Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson.
Third Series. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1896.
    â€œ It was not death, for I stood up” (c. 1862)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  It was not death, for I