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   Chapter 211 THE SNAKE.

Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete By Emily Dickinson Characters: 717

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:03


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 child, and barefoot,

I more than once, at m

orn,

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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