The Scarecrow

Listen to:

The Scarecrow (1:14)

by Walter de la Mare 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

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

  Those 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.

Six Honest Serving Men

Listen to:

Six Honest Serving Men (1:03)

by Rudyard Kipling 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I keep six honest serving-men

 (They taught me all I knew);

Their names are What and Why and When 

 And How and Where and Who.

I send them over land and sea,

 I send them east and west;

But after they have worked for me,

 I give them all a rest.

I let them rest from nine till five,

 For I am busy then,

As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea,

 For they are hungry men.

But different folk have different views; 

I know a person small—

She keeps ten million serving-men,

Who get no rest at all!

She sends 'em abroad on her own affairs,

 From the second she opens her eyes—

One million Hows, two million Wheres,

And seven million Whys!

from Kipling's Just-So Story,

The Elephant's Child 

The Bells

Listen to:

The Bells (1:30)

by Walter de la Mare 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Shadow and light both strove to be

The eight bell-ringers' company,

As with his gliding rope in hand,

Counting his changes, each did stand;

While rang and trembled every stone,

To music by the bell-mouths blown,

Till the bright clouds that towered on high

Seemed to re-echo cry with cry.

Still swang the clappers to and fro,

When, in the far-spread fields below,

I saw a ploughman with his team

Lift to the bells and fix on them

His distant eyes, as if he would

Drink in the utmost sound he could;

While near him sat his children three,

And in the green grass placidly

Played undistracted on, as if

What music earthly bells might give

Could only faintly stir their dream,

And stillness make more lovely seem.

Soon night hid horses, children, all

In sleep deep and ambrosial;

Yet, yet it seemed from star to star,

Welling now near, now faint and far,

Those echoing bells rang on in dream,

And stillness made even lovelier seem.