I died for beauty—but was scarce
Adjusted to 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 Kinsman, met a-Night—
We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up—our names—
 by Emily Dickinson

---

Beauty As A Shield

I will hold beauty as a shield against despair.
When my heart faints I will remember sights like these:
Bronze cypress that framed a sapphire sea,
A deser mesa wrapped in sunset flame.
And airplane that raced the Overland
Above a trail still marked with whitening bones;
A path through a dim forest, hushed and sweet,
Lit by one amber beam that fell aslant;
Foam, silver-laced, along with a curving wave;
Sprawled golden hills, with shadows like spilled wine;
Tall office buildings rearing through the night
Sheer walls of alabaster pierced with gold—
And snowflakes falling on a lonely pine.

I will hold beauty as a shield against depair.
When my heart faints, I will remember sights like these:
The dawning wonder in a baby's face,
The kindness in a weary wanton's face,
The gallant challenge of a cripple's grin,
Seeing forever bodies that are straight;
The fighting courage in a mother's eyes
When she waits, braced, to meet birth's gripping pains,
The shy adoring of a boy's first love,
The eager beauty of his first crusade
Against some wrong which he alone can right—
The tolerance that sometimes comes with age.

When my heart faints I will remember sights like these,
Holding their beauty as a shield against despair:
For if I can see glory such as this
With my dim eyes, my undeveloped brain,
And if from other darkened, selfish lives
Such flashes of brave loveliness can come,
Then surely there is something more than this
Sad maze of pain, bewilderment and fear—
And if there's something, I can still hope on.
by Elsie Robinson

That’s your poetry for the day!

-Liz