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, Come right up the stairs with me
I have so much to tell
I got your Letter, and the Birds
The Maples never knew that you were coming
till I calledI 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
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, Come right up the stairs with me
I have so much to tell
I got your Letter, and the Birds
The Maples never knew that you were coming
till I calledI 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
Comments
here is still snow...
i miss the snow, i envy you:(
and today i need to go out to buy some pastelboard to do an artbook, iíi get everthing all wet, bad luck:(
but then you have a nice pastelboard to do artthing which is much nicer anyway...
and yes, here is still snow.
I send you some over...