Mar 25 2009
Passages: We Like March
Emily Dickinson wrote nearly 1800 poems, but not even a dozen were published in her lifetime. Her distinctive style was unusual, but its music is timeless. The poem beginning “We like March” often taps its rhythm out in my head at this time of year.
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.
