I have been at this shooting-gallery too long. It is monotonous how the little coloured balls Make up and down on their silvery water thread; It would be pleasant to have money and go instead To watch your greasy audience in the threepenny stalls Of the World-famous Caravan of Dance and Song. And I want to go out beyond the turf fires there, After I’ve looked at your just smiling face, To that untented silent dark blue nighted place; And wait such time as you will wish the noise all dumb And drop your fairings and leave the funny man, and come… You have the most understanding face in all the fair.
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