Classic Poem

A crowd was gathering beneath the tent
—The clown must keep them in a happy mood;
—No matter if the jokes are rough and rude,
A circus is a place for merriment.
And one must be quick-minded and invent
—New tricks and let no saddened thoughts intrude,
—Nor let the public see him sigh or brood,
But banish care and seem indifferent.

There came a lull—I saw him lean awhile
—Against a post and gaze with weary eyes,
As if he traveled backward many a mile. . . .
—And though his body wore a gay disguise,
For one brief space he played a tragic role—
There is no mask to hide a lonely soul.

A crowd was gathering beneath the tent
—The clown must keep them in a happy mood;
—No matter if the jokes are rough and rude,
A circus is a place for merriment.
And one must be quick-minded and invent
—New tricks and let no saddened thoughts intrude,
—Nor let the public see him sigh or brood,
But banish care and seem indifferent.

There came a lull—I saw him lean awhile
—Against a post and gaze with weary eyes,
As if he traveled backward many a mile. . . .
—And though his body wore a gay disguise,
For one brief space he played a tragic role—
There is no mask to hide a lonely soul.