More Poetry Please

from E. Dickinson:

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
And when a child and barefoot
I more than once, at morn

Have passed I thought a whiplash
unbraiding in the sun.
When stooping to secure it ,
It vanished and was gone.

Many 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.