The busy call of care-begetting morn,
The well-slept passenger’s unheeding tread,
The showman’s clarion, or the echoing horn,
Too soon must rouse them from their lowly bed.
Perhaps in this neglected booth is laid
Some head volcanic, oft discharging fire!
Hands—that the rod of magic lately sway’d;
Toes—that so nimbly danced upon the wire.
Some clown, or pantaloon—the gazer’s jest,
Here, with his train in dirty pageant stood: