Emily Dickinson - A fuzzy fellow, without feet lyrics

173 A fuzzy fellow, without feet Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the gra**! Sometime, upon a bough From which he doth descend in plush Upon the Pa**er-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 bu*terfly!