 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
37
XXIII.
THE LOST THOUGHT.
I 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.
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.
Unto the thought before,
But sequence ravelled out of reach
Like balls upon a floor.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |