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.