Scarecrow

Rags and tags of what he was, Topped with straw and stuffed with hay; Balanced tipsily askew, It grins to scare the crows away.

I saw Him first in that old hat— It seemed the crown of a king to me. I liked his careless swagger then; Lord! He was straight and fine to see.

He courted me in that same coat— He couldn’t meet it now, I guess. That gay vest was the one he wore When I walked bride in my silver dress.

He seemed as proud as I, those days. I never dreamed, when we were wed, I’d think the Scarecrow a better man, With a broom for a spine and a pumpkin head.

Rags and tags of what he seemed, Mocking me in the field all day. What can I make a scarecrow of, To drive the hungry thoughts away?