Walter de la Mare
Kent / England
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The Scarecrow

Rating: 2.8
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
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COMMENTS
Anonymous 25 March 2019
How many stanzas are in the poem.
1 0 Reply
bob russell 15 December 2018
what did he mean by 'mail at morning prime'? By 'morning prime' he presumably meant the first hour of the day, as in 'prime numbers', but what was the mail? my guess is that he meant chain mail.
1 0 Reply

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