Snake (1886)

Emily Dickinson

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 Noon,
Have passed, I thought, a whiplash
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 feed them for a transpost
Of cordiality —

But never met this Fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And Zero at the Bone.

Learn more about the language of this poem in the
Oxford English Dictionary:

transport  acre, n.  wrinkle, v.