A Fuzzy Fellow, Without Feet

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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!

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (5)

so interestingly wonderful....Emily, only you can inspire me-10
Emily Dickinson noticed everything in her world- not even the lowly caterpillar passed by unnoticed. Perhaps that is the secret of her lively mind and penetrating verse
Yay caterpillars. Cute little things.
...........a beautiful tribute to the butterfly...
.......butterfly's are amazing creatures...enjoyed...