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?
come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!
I got your letter, and the bird’s;
The maples never knew
That you were coming,—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.
Next to the Naschmarkt
Linke Wienzeile 14
Images © by Merisi
Lovely, lovely images! And thank you for introducing me to this poem of Emily Dickinson's. I'm going to Edinburgh today for the weekend, and heavy snow is predicted there for tomorrow, so spring is an awfully long way off here! Hope you have better weather in Vienna :))ReplyDelete
Lovely poem. And how beautiful those lamps are! Also I would like to drink many of those Mozart-cups... :)ReplyDelete
"Le Printemps" by François Barois (the Tuileries Garden)
Your post made me think of this statue in Paris... I have my own picture of this statue somewhere... no time for "browsing", sorry !!!
Nothing wrong with a little nachtmuzic in the afternoon especially when it's loaded mit schlag!!!ReplyDelete
Lovely the poem of Emily Dickinson!ReplyDelete
Have a pleasant weekend, Merisi.
The globes on that chandelier remind me of my favorite absinthe fountain. The one I want to buy. Even though I've never even tried a sip of absinthe before. It's just so beautiful!
What a truly delightful post!ReplyDelete
Carol's too funny. This is just a delight, Merisi--beautifully composed post with poem and images so in tune with each another.ReplyDelete
Merisi, with this visually and verbally poetic post, you again encourage me to visit poetry more often.ReplyDelete
To see it around me, to perhaps even read some poetry, to think poetically. That last bit is what I would aspire to, but might not reach.
March is marching wowards April.ReplyDelete
I would like to march towards your Mozart melange! YUM
Thank you all! :-) xxxReplyDelete
Love this quote and as always your photos are just lovely.ReplyDelete
I love that cup:)ReplyDelete
Had to tell you.