



IN THE GARDEN 



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. 



Emily Dickinson 



Copyright 1891 by Roberts Brothers. Used by permission of Little, Brow-n cSt Company 



