DEAR MARCH...

DEAR MARCH by Emily Dickinson

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.

Oh, 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 you were coming. I declare, how red their faces  grew.

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.

Photographs 2026

 DEAR MARCH  by Emily E. Dickinson, is in the public domain.