utside the little village of Katrine,
Just where the country ventures into town,
A circus pitched its tents, and on the green
The canvas pyramids were fastened down.
The night was clear. The moon was climbing higher.
The show was over; crowds were coming out,
When, through the surging mass, the cry of "fire!"
Rose from a murmur to a wild, hoarse shout.
"Fire! fire!" The crackling flames ran up the tent,
The shrieks of frightened women filled the air,