Once I said to a scarecrow, ‘You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field.’
And he said, ‘The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it.’
Said I, after a minute of thought, ‘It is true; for I too have
known that joy.’
Said he, ‘Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.’
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.

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