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Dear March — Come in — (poem 1320) by Emily Dickinson Dear March — Come in — How glad I am — I hoped for you before — Put down your Hat — You must have walked — How out of Breath you are — Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me — I have so much to tell — I got your Letter, and the Birds — The Maples never knew that you were coming — till I called 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 — You can find this poem in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.