Because there was a thing to advertise -- Crown, clown or creed, a theory or a phrase: "God and the king!" "Vox populi?" -- the cries, The instant's gaping awe, the drifting praise Swept the poor insects from their lowly ways Up the sheer walls of war; the howling skies Clawed at them while they clung their moment; rays Of wintry glory mocked their dying eyes. Still for the greed of princes, craze of mobs, Death, tawdry showman, keeps street holiday. Still float his pennons black and red -- still rise The cliffs of madness o'er the grave that robs His doomed performers of their pitiful pay. . . . And all our earth is black with fallen flies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FLOWER GUIDANCE by ROBERT FROST RAHEL TO VARNHAGEN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON BALLAD OF THE LORDS OF OLD TIME by FRANCOIS VILLON HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?' by FRANCIS BRET HARTE HERMAN; OR, THE BROKEN SPEAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |