Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked 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 bird’s;
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.
-emily dickinson, complete poems. part: nature, LXXXVII
2 comments:
her sabah senin blogunu okuyup sarkini dinlemek gibi bi rutinim oldu,
sahip oldugum tek rutin belki,
bu bahar seninle gececek:)
pelin baksana salih kurt'un kapisinin onunden kosa kosa gecer tuvalete siginirdik adam bizim sigara ictigimizi sanip arkamizdan gelirdi ya, ben herseyin farkindayim havasinda...
cok komik,
sana bi sürpriz geliyo o zaman:) bekle:)
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