To March by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) 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, […]
To Autumn Season of Mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit that round the thatched-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd and plump the hazel […]
