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...EPITAPH: FOR A LADY I KNOW by COUNTEE CULLEN TAM I' THE KIRK by VIOLET JACOB ONLY WAITING by FRANCES LAUGHTON MACE THE PAST IS THE PRESENT by MARIANNE MOORE A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA |