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Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.

581

I found the words to every thought
I ever had—but One—
And that—defies me—
As a Hand did try to chalk the Sun

To Races—nurtured in the Dark—
How would your own—begin?
Can Blaze be shown in Cochineal—
Or Noon—in Mazarin?

Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 30 Aug 2008 3:12 PM | Viewed: 5140 times

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