I Dreaded That First Robin by Emily Dickinson

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 acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums –