Emily Dickinson Poems

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We like March.
His Shoes are Purple --
He is new and high --
Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler.
Makes he Forests dry.
Knows the Adder Tongue his coming
And presents her Spot --
Stands the Sun so close and mighty
That our Minds are hot.

News is he of all the others --
Bold it were to die
With the Blue Birds exercising
On his British Sky.

---

We like March -- his shoes are Purple.
He is new and high --
Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler --
Makes he Forests Dry --
Knows the Adder's Tongue his coming
And begets her spot --
Stands the Sun so close and mighty --
That our Minds are hot.
News is he of all the others --
Bold it were to die
With the Blue Birds buccaneering
On his British sky --

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