n.o.body came, though from without a hum Of instruments and singing slowly rose.

"Free feast, with fireworks and public shows,"

The bandsmen growled, "An empty house again.

Two children and a ploughboy and the rain.

And then a night march through the mud," they said.

Now to the gate, King Cole his piping played.

The showman's wife from out her window peering Saw, in the road, a crowd with lanterns nearing, And, just below her perch, a man who shone As though white flame were his caparison; One upon whom the great-eyed hawk-moths tense Settled with feathery feet and quivering sense, Till the white, gleaming robe seemed stuck with eyes.

It was the grinning glitterer, white and wise, King Cole, who said, "Madam, the Court is here, 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.

They ask that all who wish may enter free, And in their princely hope that this may be They send you these plump bags of minted gold."

He gave a sack that she could scarcely hold.

She dropped it trembling, muttering thanks, and then She cried: "O master, I must tell the men."

She rushed out of her van: she reached the Ring; Called to her husband, "Will, the Queen and King, Here at the very gate to see the show!"

"Light some more flares," said Will, "to make a glow.

'G.o.d save the Queen,' there, bandsmen; lively, boys.

Come on, 'G.o.d save our gracious'; make a noise.

Here, John, bring on the piebalds to the centre, We'll have the horses kneeling as they enter."

All sang, and rushed. Without, the trumpets blared.

Now children, carrying paper lanterns, made A glowing alley to the circus door; Then others scattered flowers to pave a floor, Along the highway leading from the town.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Rust-spotted bracken green they scattered down, Blue cornflowers and withering poppies red, Gold charlock, thrift, the purple hardihead, Harebells, the milfoil white, September clover, And boughs that berry red when summer's over, All autumn flowers, with yellow ears of wheat.

Then with bruised, burning gums that made all sweet, Came censer-bearing pages, and then came Bearers in white with cressets full of flame, Whose red tongues made the shadows dance like devils.

Then the blithe flutes that pipe men to the revels Thrilled to the marrow softly as men marched.

Then, tossing leopard-skins from crests that arched, The horses of the kettle-drummers stept.

Then with a glitter of bright steel there swept The guard of knights, each pennon-bearer bold Girt in a crimson cloak with spangs of gold.

Then came the Sword and Mace, and then the four Long silver trumpets thrilling to the core Of people's hearts their sound. Then two by two, Proud in caparisons of kingly blue, Bitted with bars of gold, in silver shod, Treading like kings, cream-coloured stallions trod, Dragging the carriage with the Prince and Queen.

The Corporation, walking, closed the scene.

Then came the crowd in-surging like the wave That closes up the gash the clipper clave.

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 n.o.ble,

[Ill.u.s.tration: _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.

King Cole came close and whispered in their ears: "There is a soldier here who says he knew You, long ago, and asks to speak to you.

A sergeant in the guard, a handsome blade."

"Mother!" the sergeant said. "What, Jack!" she said, "Our son come back! look, father, here's our son!"

"Bad pennies do come home to everyone,"

The sergeant said. "And if you'll have me home, And both forgive me, I'll be glad to come."

"Why, son," the showman said, "the fault was ours."

Now a bright herald trod across the flowers To bid the artists to the Queen and King, Who thanked them for the joyful evening, And shook each artist's hand with words of praise.

"Our happiest hour," they said, "for many days.

You must perform at Court at Christmas tide."

They left their box: men flung the curtains wide, The horses kneeled like one as they withdrew.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _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._ ]

They reached the curtained door and loitered through.

The audience, standing, sang "G.o.d save the Queen."

The hour of the showman's life had been.