Classic Poem

It is a bright but cold November day;
And in the centre of the village green
A troop of dirty ragged boys are seen
In poor and mean processional display.
If vulgar Farce and Famine could be gay,
One might conceive the spectacle had been
Plotted and plann'd that hopeful pair between,
So grim and gaunt its actors and array
How are the mighty fallen! Is this the dread
And fearless Guido; by each urchin's cry
Hail'd but in sport, or hooted as “Old Guy,”
With whiten'd face begrimed with dirty red,
In ribald mockery to the bonfire led?
Such is the fame that ends in infamy!