HOOP-LA, hey! cried the clown in the ring, (Weep, weep, said his heart.) Alackaday! sighed the stately king, (Leap, leap, said his heart.) The clown's dear daughter lay a-dying, And so his painted face was trying To veil an anguished mind. The king's chief rival lay a-dying; His grief was mock, for he was trying To make the big world blind. Whene'er I fear there is no God, But blindest force in star and sod, A whisper says: There must be One To read beneath what things are done And grasp the doer's will; The clown's wrung heart, The king's cold art, Life's woven good-and-ill. |