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 stopped 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 Natures 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 - -

	Creado por katie.browell hace más de 10 años

Emily Dickinson