Classic Poem

The circus pitches its tents, the three rings under one immense canvas.
This year new marvels of contortion, acrobatism, horseback riding;
A man in a moto darts down an inclined plane, turning a summersault in the air;
Japanese jugglers, with absolute self-possession, perform miracles with knives;
A man jumps in waltz-time on a slack wire, never making a false step;
Elephants, fanning themselves with their broad ears, their tiny eyes twinkling,
Lumberingly dance and stand on their gigantic heads;
Monkeys drest like jockeys gallop in races on superb horses;
Trained dogs show supercanine intelligence;
Seals and cats fire off cannon and play musical instruments.
The clown, clad in a dozen suits of ridiculous clothing,
Proves that he is an acrobat in disguise; he hangs by one toe
And lifts three girls tenuously drest and with rosepainted faces.
A fake policeman arrests a man in evening-clothes;
It causes excitement turned into a laugh when the " swallow-tail "
Slipping off and the tall silk hat tumbling,
Displays the absurd habiliments of a clown,
Peanut shells crack in every row; the venders of pink lemonade
Hawk their villainous mixture.

Reporters visit the circus between times and describe graphically
The life led by the performers. They inspect the kitchens,
They procure interesting stories from the Circassian Queen in the side-show;
She tells of her early life on the shores of Lake Killarney
And how she happened to cast her fortunes with " the Aggregation. "
The dog-headed man is a wit; he understands the foibles of humanity.
The immense system of feeding and clothing and paying the people,
Of setting up and taking down the tents, of transporting them,
Of settling their disputes and difficulties, is made clear.
The clown comes in; he has made the audience laugh by his antics;
His face is infinitely sad; his wife is dying of consumption;
What little he earns by making a fool of himself goes for her comfort.
The slender equestrienne who rode the white Arabian bareback,
Poising on one toe and leaping through the paper hoop,
Is mother of three little children, and she loves them.
All these myriad segments of life woven into the reporters' story
Are read with a moment's amusement.

A new play is produced in an Indiana theatre.
The plot is outlined, its originality is praised;
A great run for it is predicted when it reaches the metropolis.
The writer is a young girl, never before heard of;
Her fortune is made; stories about her career are invented.
A disquisition on the American stage follows;
Its early origins are recalled;
Much is said about the great stock companies;
The star-system is unfavorably compared with them;
The famous old Museum company is brought to mind — the courtliness of William Warren,
The staid gentility of Mrs. Vincent;
Something about Joe Jefferson's hard struggles is mentioned;
A story is told of his kindliness, his wit;
It is questioned whether we shall ever produce a Shakespeare;
It is pointed out sapiently and with conviction
What a splendid contrast offers between the North and the South,
As personified in the haughty daughter of slave-holding Virginians,
Much wooed and at last won by the handsome gallant young wounded Yankee.
There is a romance for the New York heiress who has never beheld a bison
And the rough long-haired drawling broncho-buster,
Who can while galloping in a circle infallibly hit a " two-bit " piece
Flung into the air at forty rods' distance.
A whole world of romance and history is waiting for the drama!
All this comes over the copper wires, and a myriad things besides.