Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

March

We like March, his shoes are purple,
  He is new and high;
Makes he mud for dog and peddler,
  Makes he forest 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.

1. To March
2. High from the Earth I Heard a Bird
3. Dawn (Not knowing when the dawn will come)
4. A Murmur in the Trees to Note
5. Morning Is the Place for Dew

William Williams March ("Winter is long in this climate")

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