Classic Poem

The Grindstone man is gone, with his singing grindstone.
— Sing, Grindstone, a rusty sad farewell.
His rusty beard and rusty wheel are gone now,
No more his foot treads out that screaming music,
No more the water drips,
Nor lean knife slips
Upon the shrieking wheel; the Grindstone man is gone.

The Muffin man is gone, with his evening Bell.
— Ring, clear Bell, a childish sweet farewell.
His green baize apron and his padded coronet
Are wanting now, and coffin-like long tray.
No more the Bell's clear ringing,
The cry of Muffin s singing
In brief November dusk: the Muffin man is gone.

The Cheap-jacks most are gone, with their tongues' clatter.
— Clack yet, rough tongues, a hurried, mad farewell.
Raiment and gauds, gay parasols, scritching parrots,
Are traded all or packed and hipped away.
No more the japes and jibes
At Israel's gilt-toothed tribes;
The Cheap-jacks and their giddy babble are gone.

And Punch and Judy are gone, with the crimson booth.
— Whine again, sad Toby, your hungry last farewell.
The staff and cap and bells and all are gone now.
No more is heard gruff threat and squeaky cry;
No more the nodding heads,
And cap with gilded threads —
Even Punch and Judy and Toby and all are gone.