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 at tighter Breathing
 And Zero at the Bone.