Emily Dickinson

A thought went up my mind to-day

A THOUGHT went up my mind to-day
That I have had before,

"some way back"

Vague time markers throughout—"some way back," "could not fix the year." The thought itself is less important than the inability to pin it down.

But did not finish,—some way back,
I could not fix the year,
Nor where it went, nor why it came

"nor why it came"

Three "Nor" clauses in a row (where, why, what). She's cataloging everything she *doesn't* know about this thought.

The second time to me,
Nor definitely what it was,

"Have I the art"

Inverted syntax—normal order would be "I have the art." The inversion emphasizes her lack of skill to articulate the thought.

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.

"came my way no more"

Final line is matter-of-fact, almost dismissive. The thought reminded her of something, then vanished—no drama, just gone.

Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Unfinished Thought

This poem is about mental déjà vu—recognizing a thought you've had before but can't quite grasp. Dickinson wrote obsessively about consciousness and how the mind works, often treating thoughts as physical objects that can "go up" into the mind (line 1) or come and go like visitors.

The structure mirrors the experience. Stanza one: the thought arrived. Stanza two: everything she *doesn't* know about it ("Nor where... nor why... nor definitely what"). Stanza three: vague recognition, then it's gone. The poem enacts forgetting—by the end, we know less than we did at the start.

Notice "Have I the art to say" (line 8). Dickinson is claiming she lacks the skill to articulate this thought, which is ironic because she just wrote a perfectly articulated poem about inarticulation. She's doing the thing she says she can't do—capturing the uncapturable.

What Dickinson Cuts

The poem is built on negatives and absences. She can't "fix the year," doesn't know where it went or why it came, can't say what it was. The only positive statement is "I know / I've met the thing before"—but even that knowledge is located "somewhere in my soul," not in conscious memory.

The final stanza deflates any expectation of insight. The thought "just reminded me—'t was all." Reminded her of *what*? She doesn't say. The dash after "all" is classic Dickinson—it marks where the explanation should go, but nothing follows except the thought's departure.

This is Dickinson's epistemology: we half-know things. Consciousness is full of unfinished thoughts, fleeting recognitions, ideas we can't quite hold. The poem doesn't resolve—it enacts the mind's limits.