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.
Ed. Note: Consider "Dew / From a convenient Grass," where "grass" would seem to be nature's glass. This is a magnificent poem on first reading or tenth. Dickinson's gift of negative capabilty is on display in her harmonious identification of the poet with a carnivorous bird, who dines, sips, looks around him cautiously, as if in danger, and wins the heart of the poet, a rower in an oceanic cosmos. Ideally one should recite the poem while juggling four pink balls or white bowling pins while a couple of writer friends applaud. — DL