The Marionettes

January 25, 2017


Let the foul scene proceed:
There’s laughter in the wings:
‘Tis sawdust that they bleed,
But a box Death brings.

Gigantic dins uprise!
Even the gods must feel
A smarting of the eyes
As these fumes upsweal.

Strange, such a Piece is free,
While we Spectators sit
Aghast at its agony,
Yet absorbed in it.

Dark is the outer air,
Cold the night draughts blow,
Mutely we stare, and stare
At the frenzied show.

Yet heaven has its quiet shroud
Of deep and starry blue –
We cry “An end!” we are bowed
By the dread “‘Tis true!”

While the Shape who hoofs applause
Behind our deafened ear
Hoots – angel-wise -“the Cause!”
And affrights even fear.


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