Robin

I dreaded that first Robin, so,

But He is mastered, now,

I'm some 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 acknowledgement

Of their unthinking Drums

-EMILY DICKINSON