LIFE
XLVI
A THOUGHT went up my mind to-dayThat I have had before,But did not finish,—some way back,I could not fix the year,
Nor where it went, nor why it cameThe second time to me,Nor definitely what it was,Have I the art to say.
But somewhere in my soul, I knowI’ve met the thing before;It just reminded me—’t was all—And came my way no more.
XLVII
IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal;But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
Is Heaven an exchequer? They speak of what we owe;But that negotiation I’m not a party to.
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