By Emily Dickenson
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