Swift in the path their majesties would tread The showman flung green baize and turkey red. Within the tent, with bunting, ropes and bags They made a Royal Box festooned with flags. Even as the Queen arrived, the work was done, The seven piebald horses kneeled like one, The bandsmen blew their best, while, red as beet, The showman bowed his rulers to their seat. Then, through the door, came courtiers wigged and starred; The crimson glitterers of the bodyguard; The ladies of the Court, broad-browed and noble, [Illustration: _The Court, the Prince, the Queen, all drawing near, We here, the vanguard, set them on their way. They come intent to see your circus play._ ] Lovely as evening stars o'er seas in trouble; The aldermen, in furs, with golden chains, Old cottagers in smocks from country lanes, Shepherds half dumb from silence on the down, And merchants with their households from the town, And, in the front, two rows of eager-hearted Children with shining eyes and red lips parted. Even as the creeping waves that brim the pool One following other filled the circus full. The showman stood beside his trembling wife. "Never," he said, "in all our travelling life Has this old tent looked thus, the front seats full With happy little children beautiful. Then all this glorious Court, tier after tier! O would our son, the wanderer, were here, Then we'd die happy!" "Would he were!" said she. "It was my preaching forced him to be free," The showman said. "Ah, no," his wife replied, "The great world's glory and the young blood's pride, Those forced him from us, never you, my dear." "I would be different if we had him here Again," the showman said; "but we must start. But all this splendour takes away my heart, I am not used to playing to the King." "Look," said his wife, "the stranger, in the Ring." There in the Ring, indeed, the stranger stood, King Cole, the shining, with his flute of wood, Waiting until the chattering Court was stilled. Then from his wooden flute his piping thrilled, Then all was tense, and then the leaping fluting Clamoured as flowering clamours for the fruiting. And round the ring came Dodo, the brown mare, Pied like a tiger-moth; her bright shoes tare The scattered petals, while the clown came after Like life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter. The showman entered in and cracked his whip. Then followed fun and skill and horsemanship, Marvellous all, for all were at their best. Never had playing gone with such a zest To those good jesters; never had the tent So swiftly answered to their merriment With cheers, the artist's help, the actor's life. Then, at the end, the showman and his wife Stood at the entrance listening to the cheers. They were both happy to the brink of tears.