The Squirrel

by Emily Dickinson

Whisky Frisky,

Hippity hop,

Up he goes

To the tree top!

Whirly, twirly,

Round and round

Down he scampers

To the ground.

Furly, curly,

What a tail!

Tall as a feather

Broad as a sail

Experiment to me

Is every one I meet.

If it contain a kernel?

The figure of a nut

Presents upon a tree,

Equally plausibly;

But meat within is requisite,

To squirrels and to me.