A fuzzy fellow, without feet

A fuzzy fellow, without feet,
Yet doth exceeding run!
Of velvet, is his Countenance,
And his Complexion, dun!

Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass!
Sometime, upon a bough,
From which he doth descend in plush
Upon the Passer-by!

All this in summer.
But when winds alarm the Forest Folk,
He taketh Damask Residence—
And struts in sewing silk!

Then, finer than a Lady,
Emerges in the spring!
A Feather on each shoulder!
You'd scarce recognize him!

By Men, yclept Caterpillar!
By me! But who am I,
To tell the pretty secret
Of the Butterfly!

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Emily Dickinson

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was an American poet. more…

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"A fuzzy fellow, without feet by Emily Dickinson" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 22 Jan. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/11429>.

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