Scarecrow Poems

Table of Contents

1. The Scarecrow

   by Annie Stone

   
   

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   Here is the scarecrow, see him stand
   Upon the newly planted land;
   A figure rugged and forlorn,
   A silent watcher of the corn.
   

   His dangling legs, his arms spread wide,
   A lone man of the countryside;
   Uncouth, the butt of pen and tongue,
   Unheralded, unsought, unsung
   

   To you, old scarecrow, then this lay
   To cheer you on your lonely way;
   Would that all men, their whole lives through,
   Served some good purpose same as you.
   

2. The Scarecrow

   by Walter de la Mare

   All winter through I bow my head
   Beneath the driving rain;
   The North Wind powders me with snow
   And blows me black again;
   At midnight 'neath a maze of stars
   I flame with glittering rime,
   And stand, above the stubble, stiff
   As mail at morning-prime.
   But when that child called Spring, and all
   His host of children, come,
   Scattering their buds and dew upon
   These acres of my home,
   Some rapture in my rags awakes;
   I lift void eyes and scan
   The sky for crows, those ravening foes,
   Of my strange master, Man.
   I watch him striding lank behind
   His clashing team, and know
   Soon will the wheat swish body high
   Where once lay a sterile snow;
   Soon I shall gaze across a sea
   Of sun-begotten grain,
   Which my unflinching watch hath sealed
   For harvest once again.
   

3. The Scarecrow

   by Kahlil Gibran

   
   

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   Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this lonely field.”

   And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it.”

   Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have known that joy.”

   Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”

   Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me.

   A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

   And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest under his hat.

4. My Father's Old Scarecrow

   by Eugene J. Hall

   
   

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   My father's old scarecrow once stood in the corn,
   An old-fashioned scarecrow, absurd an' furlorn.
   Its legs were but bean poles; its body wus straw;
   The wu'st lookin' scarecrow that ever I saw.
   My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow,
   His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn.
   

   Its featur's were saller; its aspect wus wild;
   Its eyes never slumbered; its lips never smiled;
   It frightened the hosses, far more than the crows,
   That sat on its shoulders an' pecked at its nose.
   My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow,
   His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn.
   

   My father's old scarecrow hez gone to decay,
   A tramp took its trowse's an' wore 'em away.
   Yet of'en, in fancy, I see in the corn,
   That ragged old scarecrow, absurd an' furlorn.
   My father's old, scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow,
   His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn.
   

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