The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
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 NoonHave passed I thought a Whip Lash Unbraiding in the Sun When stooping to secure itIt wrinkled And was gone - Several of Nature's People I know and they know me I feel for them a transport Of CordialityBut never met this Fellow Attended or alone Without a tighter Breathing And Zero at the Bone.