ARRAYED in white, e'en on the coldest day, He stands, majestic, haughty, all alone, A glorious figure (that is, so he thinks), Gripped in his hands a large red megaphone. The game begins. He springs to sudden life— He twists, he wiggles, leaps and hops and sways; Weird noises, most uncouth, burst from his lips— He roars, he bellows, whoops and shrieks and brays! The multitude brays with him. Magnetized, They join the swelling tumult, more and more, And, finally, a vocal cataract is loosed To praise a tackle or to greet a score! And he, whose megaphone leads all the din, The proud creator of horrendous noise, Stands (so he thinks) like Jupiter on high, A reigning sovereign, in imperial poise! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARIA WENTWORTH by THOMAS CAREW A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 63 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE REASON by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 43. ONE CHANCE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE HALCYON BIRDS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |