A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides –
You may see him by his Crease
And his ungraspable Eyes –

If you hold your Foot, and will –
The Grass, after all, is green –
And know can simply see –
That is certainly too lean –

But he is ever strange and dead;
And who the Wanderers may be,
Could as well have fallen mud –
And perhaps be stirred again –

• Emily Dickinson