“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.”

~Emily Dickinson

“Dear March, Come In” is Emily Dickinson’s eloquent greeting to the season of Spring. By personifying the season we have thought about every single day of a long and infinite winter, she reminds the listener that Spring is on its way and will likely be out of breath when it arrives. And right when they get comfortable, who else but April knocks at the door. Can you imagine? The nerve.

Dear March – Come In

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 –