THE SCARECROW

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 in 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 skies 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 sterile snow;

Soon shall I gaze across a sea

Of sun begotten grain,

Which my unflinching watch hath sealed

For harvest once again.

(I always liked this poem which was read to me at my primary school. I think everyone loves a scarecrow don't you?)  (The poem is by Walter de La Mare)

I 

 
 Most of you will probably remember Dingle, Dangle Scarecrow from childhood:
 

When all the cows were sleeping and the sun had gone to bed

Up jumped the scarecrow and this is what he said:

I'm a dingle dangle scarecrow with a flippy floppy hat.

I can shake my hands like this and shake my feet like that.

 When all the hens were rousting and the moon behind a cloud,

Up jumped the scarecrow and shouted very loud

I'm a dingle dangle scarecrow with a flippy floppy hat,

I can shake my hands like this and shake my feet like that.