I Dreaded That First Robin, So

I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I'm accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though—

I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by—
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me—

I dared not meet the Daffodils—
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own—

I wished the Grass would hurry—
So—when 'twas time to see—
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch—to look at me—

I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?

They're here, though; not a creature failed—
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me—
The Queen of Calvary—

Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums—

Emily Dickinson

Jacqueline and I went to the park today.  As Jacqueline's rain boots made a squishing sound on the rain drenched grass we hunted for pine cones in the woods.  Jacqueline slid down the slide and swung on the swing.  We played hangman in the sand and tic-tac-toe under the play equipment.  But the highlight of the visit was spotting our first robin, hopping in a puddle that had formed in a dip in the flattened grass.  Spring has sprung. 



Photo courtesy http://image1.masterfile.com.