[THOUGHTS THOUGHT WHILST MOWIN’ THE LAWN ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON]
O Circus Day! So very brief art thou,
From early morn when first doth rise the tent
Till midnight comes and all the show hath went;
Thou ’rt like a swiftly passin’ dream. Oh, how
I wish the laggin’ tasks that wet the brow
With per-spi-ra-tion (sweat is what I meant)
Would haste as thou dost haste. How different