Poetry Friday: Dear March—Come in by Emily Dickinson

I'm welcoming March with my beloved Emily because, well, isn't this simply what one does? 

Dear March—Come in

by Emily Dickinson 

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—

(This poem is in the public domain.)

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Kathryn Apel has the roundup (not to mention a new book — congratulations, Kat!) 

Visit her here for all the poetic goodness.