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Read the poem: “March”

by Emily Dickinson

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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < May-Flower
Me! Come! My dazzled face > > >

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.


< < < May-Flower
Me! Come! My dazzled face > > >

American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson

Copyright holders –  Public Domain

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