THE CIRCUS PARADE
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,As the glittering pageant winds down the long street!In the Circus parade there is glory clean downFrom the first spangled horse to the mule of the Clown,With the gleam and the glint and the glamour and glareOf the days of enchantment all glimmering there!And there are the banners of silvery foldCaressing the winds with their fringes of gold,And their high-lifted standards, with spear-tips aglow,And the helmeted knights that go riding below.There’s the Chariot, wrought of some marvellous shellThe Sea gave to Neptune, first washing it wellWith its fabulous waters of gold, till it gleamsLike the galleon rare of an Argonaut’s dreams.And the Elephant, too, (with his undulant strideThat rocks the high throne of a king in his pride,)That in jungles of India shook from his flanksThe tigers that leapt from the Jujubee-banks.Here’s the long, ever-changing, mysterious lineOf the Cages, with hints of their glories divineFrom the barred little windows, cut high in the rear,Where the close-hidden animals’ noses appear.Here’s the Pyramid-car, with its splendor and flash,And the Goddess on high, in a hot-scarlet sashAnd a pen-wiper skirt!—O the rarest of sightsIs this “Queen of the Air” in cerulean tights!Then the far-away clash of the cymbals, and thenThe swoon of the tune ere it wakens againWith the capering tones of the gallant cornetThat go dancing away in a mad minuet.The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,As the glittering pageant winds down the long street.
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,As the glittering pageant winds down the long street!In the Circus parade there is glory clean downFrom the first spangled horse to the mule of the Clown,With the gleam and the glint and the glamour and glareOf the days of enchantment all glimmering there!And there are the banners of silvery foldCaressing the winds with their fringes of gold,And their high-lifted standards, with spear-tips aglow,And the helmeted knights that go riding below.There’s the Chariot, wrought of some marvellous shellThe Sea gave to Neptune, first washing it wellWith its fabulous waters of gold, till it gleamsLike the galleon rare of an Argonaut’s dreams.And the Elephant, too, (with his undulant strideThat rocks the high throne of a king in his pride,)That in jungles of India shook from his flanksThe tigers that leapt from the Jujubee-banks.Here’s the long, ever-changing, mysterious lineOf the Cages, with hints of their glories divineFrom the barred little windows, cut high in the rear,Where the close-hidden animals’ noses appear.Here’s the Pyramid-car, with its splendor and flash,And the Goddess on high, in a hot-scarlet sashAnd a pen-wiper skirt!—O the rarest of sightsIs this “Queen of the Air” in cerulean tights!Then the far-away clash of the cymbals, and thenThe swoon of the tune ere it wakens againWith the capering tones of the gallant cornetThat go dancing away in a mad minuet.The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,As the glittering pageant winds down the long street.
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,As the glittering pageant winds down the long street!
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,
And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;
The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,
As the glittering pageant winds down the long street!
In the Circus parade there is glory clean downFrom the first spangled horse to the mule of the Clown,With the gleam and the glint and the glamour and glareOf the days of enchantment all glimmering there!
In the Circus parade there is glory clean down
From the first spangled horse to the mule of the Clown,
With the gleam and the glint and the glamour and glare
Of the days of enchantment all glimmering there!
And there are the banners of silvery foldCaressing the winds with their fringes of gold,And their high-lifted standards, with spear-tips aglow,And the helmeted knights that go riding below.
And there are the banners of silvery fold
Caressing the winds with their fringes of gold,
And their high-lifted standards, with spear-tips aglow,
And the helmeted knights that go riding below.
There’s the Chariot, wrought of some marvellous shellThe Sea gave to Neptune, first washing it wellWith its fabulous waters of gold, till it gleamsLike the galleon rare of an Argonaut’s dreams.
There’s the Chariot, wrought of some marvellous shell
The Sea gave to Neptune, first washing it well
With its fabulous waters of gold, till it gleams
Like the galleon rare of an Argonaut’s dreams.
And the Elephant, too, (with his undulant strideThat rocks the high throne of a king in his pride,)That in jungles of India shook from his flanksThe tigers that leapt from the Jujubee-banks.
And the Elephant, too, (with his undulant stride
That rocks the high throne of a king in his pride,)
That in jungles of India shook from his flanks
The tigers that leapt from the Jujubee-banks.
Here’s the long, ever-changing, mysterious lineOf the Cages, with hints of their glories divineFrom the barred little windows, cut high in the rear,Where the close-hidden animals’ noses appear.
Here’s the long, ever-changing, mysterious line
Of the Cages, with hints of their glories divine
From the barred little windows, cut high in the rear,
Where the close-hidden animals’ noses appear.
Here’s the Pyramid-car, with its splendor and flash,And the Goddess on high, in a hot-scarlet sashAnd a pen-wiper skirt!—O the rarest of sightsIs this “Queen of the Air” in cerulean tights!
Here’s the Pyramid-car, with its splendor and flash,
And the Goddess on high, in a hot-scarlet sash
And a pen-wiper skirt!—O the rarest of sights
Is this “Queen of the Air” in cerulean tights!
Then the far-away clash of the cymbals, and thenThe swoon of the tune ere it wakens againWith the capering tones of the gallant cornetThat go dancing away in a mad minuet.
Then the far-away clash of the cymbals, and then
The swoon of the tune ere it wakens again
With the capering tones of the gallant cornet
That go dancing away in a mad minuet.
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,As the glittering pageant winds down the long street.
The Circus!—The Circus!—The throb of the drums,
And the blare of the horns, as the Band-wagon comes;
The clash and the clang of the cymbals that beat,
As the glittering pageant winds down the long street.