Emily Dickinson - Letter 215 (March 1860) - no ms. Louise Norcross lyrics

The little "apple of my eye," is not dearer than Loo; she knows I remember her, - why waste an instant in defence of an absurdity? My birds fly far off, nobody knows where they go to, but you see I know they are coming back, and other people don't, that makes the difference. I've had a curious winter, very swift, sometimes sober, for I haven't felt well, much, and March amazes me! I didn't think of it, that's all! Your "hay" don't look so dim as it did at one time. I hayed a little for the horse two Sundays ago, and mother thought it was summer, and set one plant out-doors which she brought from the deluge, but it snowed since, and we have been sleighing, now, on one side of the road, and wheeling on the other, a kind of variegated turnpike quite picturesque to see! You are to have Vinnie, it seems, and I to tear my hair, or engage in any other vocation that seems fitted to me. Well, the earth is round, so if Vinnie rolls your side sometimes, 't isn't strange; I wish I were there too, but the geraniums felt so I couldn't think of leaving them, and one minute carnation pink cried, till I shut her up - see box! Now, my love, robins, for both of you, and when you and Vinnie sing at sunrise on the apple boughs, just cast your eye to my twig. Poor Plover.