Daily Dickinson
A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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‹ We play at paste • A New England Autumn ›
November 1, 2007 in Life, Poems | 1 comment
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?
Tags: noon, sun, thought
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Karen Edmisten on November 2, 2007 at 8:43 am
I love this site — thanks for your efforts and your photography is gorgeous. I can’t seem to get your gadget html to work on my blog, though ….
Best wishes, Karen Edmisten
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