173 <br /> <br />A fuzzy fellow, without feet, <br />Yet doth exceeding run! <br />Of velvet, is his Countenance, <br />And his Complexion, dun! <br /> <br />Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass! <br />Sometime, upon a bough, <br />From which he doth descend in plush <br />Upon the Passer-by! <br /> <br />All this in summer. <br />But when winds alarm the Forest Folk, <br />He taketh Damask Residence— <br />And struts in sewing silk! <br /> <br />Then, finer than a Lady, <br />Emerges in the spring! <br />A Feather on each shoulder! <br />You'd scarce recognize him! <br /> <br />By Men, yclept Caterpillar! <br />By me! But who am I, <br />To tell the pretty secret <br />Of the Butterfly!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-fuzzy-fellow-without-feet/
