Brushed by the shadows of the dead On grass where failing daylight falls The lady harlequin's stripped bare Admiring herself in a still pool A twilight juggler a charlatan Boasts tricks that he knows how to play Pale as milk the studding stars Stand in the tall uncolored air Harlequin pallid on his small stage Greets the audience first of all Bohemian sorcerers a train Of fairies and prestidigitals Reaching up to unhook a star He whirls it round with outstretched arm While cymbals mark a measured beat Hanging from a hanged man's feet The sightless one croons to a child The hind and her troop of fawns pass by The dwarf sulks at the growing thrust Of Harlequin the Trismegist | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPLES OF HESPERIDES by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. PURKAPILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE DECISION (APRIL 14, 1861) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE CREMATION OF SAM MCGEE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |