Emily Dickinson Poem

I found the phrase to every thought

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I found the phrase 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 done in cochineal,
Or noon in mazarin?

I gained it so
I felt my life with both my hands

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