With round fists tossed like roses o’er thy head,
And thy tranc’d lips and eyelids kissed with gleams
Of rapture perfected.
THE CIRCUS PARADE
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,
And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;
The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,
As the glittering pageant winds down the long street!