Snake
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.

Comments:
 
Mike Firesmith   Mike Firesmith wrote
on 4/19/2008 6:14:14 PM
Snakes and I are friends. Essay arriving soon as she comes out of hibernation.

Emily Dickinson
Poetry
Other
writing Emily Dickinson
American poet, Emily Dickinson, lived from December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886, in Amherst, Massachusetts
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