Page 82 - 1927 Hartridge
P. 82
Page 72
Prize Poem
CIRCUS
I'he whole effect is blatant, scintillating; Blast of music, blaze of multi-colored lights.
Somewhere a tom-tom palpitating. Reminder of far Afric jungle nights; Upon his box the barker hoarsely prating
Of undreamed, mystifying sights.
Majestic, high above the glittering scene. The Ferris wheel— a giant’s diamond ring—
Revolving, dignified and regally serene. Like some new unsung planet on the wing; While, from behind the dirty canvas screen, A sound of F'ijis, dancing as they sing.
In the center of a laughing, jostling throng. The clown his crazy, jolly trade is plying. Across the plains a dog howls, mournful-long. And close at hand another one’s replying.
The hot dog vendor chants his everlasting song; On greasy range his pungent wares are frying.
Upon their thrones of dazzling spangled gold. The charmer vicious reptile ropes is twining.
And stolidly as any plaster mold.
The seven-fingered woman is reclining.
Red-sashed, disdainful, bored and bold. The swallower on Hashing swords is dining.
The traveling circus is a tuneful fairyland Until the glorious hours of darkness pass.
At dawn the splendor’s faded, hushed the band.
And sparkling gold is turned to tarnished brass.
K. P., ’27.
