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ClassicsEmily Dickinson
986 A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides— You may have met Him—did you not His notice sudden 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— Yet 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—
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass
986 A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides— You may have met Him—did you not His notice sudden 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— Yet 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
Classics
Emily Dickinson
1830 - 1886/Female/American