dear March has come


dear March Come in 
How glad I am 
I hoped for you before 
Put down your Hat 
You must have walked 
How out of Breath you are 
dear March, how are you, and the Rest 
did you leave Nature well 
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me 
I have so much to tell 

I got your Letter, and the Birds 
The Maples never knew that you were coming 
I declare – how Red their Faces grew        
But March, forgive me 
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue 
There was no Purple suitable
You took it all with you      

  Who knocks? That April
Lock the Door 
I will not be pursued 
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied        
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come.

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame.

~Emily dickinson~

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