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 Serpent goes—
And he rides—upon his Head—
And when he leaves—he goes—

The Grass is like a frightened beast—
Leaping, and frighted flies—
And he coils away within—
And then he advances and

He takes away your Breath—
And look—the Grass is darkest green—
And when it’s gone—pale brown

It looks most like a Leaf
That by his Beard could spit
It teased your sense that he might—
Somehow—you might not meet!

• Emily Dickinson