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42
POEMS.
XX.
A THOUGHT went up my mind to-day
That I have had before,
But did not finish,—some way back,
I could not fix the year,
Nor where it went, nor why it came
The second time to me,
Nor definitely what it was,
Have I the art to say.
But somewhere in my soul, I know
I've met the thing before;
It just reminded me—'t was all—
And came my way no more.
