Author Emily Dickinson 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? Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments