< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu
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POEMS. 37
��XXIII. THE LOST THOUGHT.
T FELT a clearing in my mind
- As if my brain had split ;
I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit.
The thought behind I strove to join Unto the thought before,
But sequence ravelled out of reach Like balls upon a floor.
�� �
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