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A Narrow Fellow In The Grass

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 morn,

 

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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