Emily Dickinson — A Narrow Fellow in the Grass

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 morn 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