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 died?
“Darning needle,” I replied.
“And I a hansom cab,—the two are one;
We brethren are,” he said.
And so, as kinsmen met at night,
I bickered with his lie
That getting stabbed and run over
Are similar ways to die.