The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums, And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes; The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat, As the glittering pageant winds down the long street! In the Circus parade there is glory clean down From the first spangled horse to the mule of the Clown, With the gleam and the glint and the glamour and glare Of the days of enchantment all glimmering there! And there are the banners of silvery fold Caressing the winds with their fringes of gold, And their high-lifted standards, with spear-tips aglow, And the helmeted knights that go riding below. There’s the Chariot, wrought of some marvellous shell The Sea gave to Neptune, first washing it well With its fabulous waters of gold, till it gleams Like the galleon rare of an Argonaut’s dreams. And the Elephant, too, (with his undulant stride That rocks the high throne of a king in his pride,) That in jungles of India shook from his flanks The tigers that leapt from the Jujubee-banks. Here’s the long, ever-changing, mysterious line Of the Cages, with hints of their glories divine From the barred little windows, cut high in the rear, Where the close-hidden animals’ noses appear. Here’s the Pyramid-car, with its splendor and flash, And the Goddess on high, in a hot-scarlet sash And a pen-wiper skirt!—O the rarest of sights Is this “Queen of the Air” in cerulean tights! Then the far-away clash of the cymbals, and then The swoon of the tune ere it wakens again With the capering tones of the gallant cornet That go dancing away in a mad minuet. The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums, And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes; The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat, |