A Narrow Fellow in the Grass

A narrow Fellow in the Grass

Occasionally rides —

You may have met him? Did you not

His notice instant is —

The Grass divides as with a Comb,

A spotted Shaft is seen,

And then it closes at your Feet

And opens further on —

He likes a Boggy Acre — 

A Floor too cool for Corn —

But when a Boy and Barefoot

I more than once at Noon

Have passed I thought a Whip Lash

Unbraiding in the Sun

When stooping to secure it

It wrinkled And was gone —

Several of Nature’s People

I know, and they know me

I feel for them a transport

Of Cordiality

But never met this Fellow

Attended or alone

Without a tighter Breathing

And Zero at the Bone.

Emily Dickinson wrote this of course. Another of my favorites. Sometimes I cannot resist entering a good poem here... Just the typing of the words makes it grow closer somehow.