The weathered tent on this star-gilded night Is a great lantern. Its internal glow Falls on the watchers of the splendent show, On grinning clowns, and beasts in stupid plight. The cheers that tell the multitude's delight Are lost in martial melodies that grow More loud as wonder mounts, while to and fro Men leap in air across a dizzy height. Three hours have passed. There is no shining tent. No shouts or music break the town's deep rest. There are no cowering beasts, no daring men. The dew has fallen. In the firmament Antares has pushed farther toward the west, And singing crickets claim the field again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSTANS TYRANNUS by ROBERT BROWNING ALEXANDER CRUMMELL - DEAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE MOTHER'S HEART by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON JINNY THE JUST by MATTHEW PRIOR THE CARD-DEALER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNET: 104 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TO AMERICA, ON HER FIRST SONS FALLEN IN THE GREAT WAR by E. M. WALKER |