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Madison Julius Cawein (Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн) The Scarecrow More than cakes or anything I like tales of shivering. Once a scarecrow on a hill Tossed his ragged arms at me That was when I went to see Folks that live at Fisherville. And my father said, "You know, When it's dark that old scarecrow Gets down, rags and sticks and all, And, like some old tramp, he goes, Straw-wisps sticking from his toes, Down the road, right past this wall. "Wobble-legged and loose of arm, Slow he shambles by the farm: And if children are not good, Snug in bed at eight o'clock, On the window he will knock With long knuckled hands of wood. "Then his empty face pressed flat To the pane, his tattered hat Flopping in the wind, he'll shake His gaunt finger at them; and Threaten them with head and hand, And with teeth, too, like a rake. "Then into the night he'll pack, There to meet with bogie Jack, Jack-o'-Lantern; and the two, Arm in arm, will wander on, Scaring folks until it's dawn, As all goblin people do. "You may see them through the pane Passing in the night and rain: When you hear the watch-dogs bark. Then along the weedy side Of some garden dim they glide, Where they grab you in the dark." Sometime, when I can, for fun I am going to take my gun; Creep up on that hill and blow That old scarecrow into bits Then he can't scare into fits Any children more, I know. Madison Julius Cawein's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1200 |
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