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 like a Boggy Acre A Floor too cool for Corn- Yet 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-
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