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Page:The complete poems of Emily Dickinson, (IA completepoemsofe00dick 1).pdf/111

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NATURE


XXIII

A BIRD came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.

And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad, —
They looked like frightened beads, I thought
He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home

Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.


XXIV

A NARROW fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him, — did you not?
His notice sudden is.

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