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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.