The Travelling Bear

GRASS-BLADES push up between the cobblestones And catch the sun on their flat sides Shooting it back, Gold and emerald, Into the eyes of passers-by. And over the cobblestones, Square-footed and heavy, Dances the trained bear. The cobbles cut his feet, And he has a ring in his nose But still he dances, For the keeper pricks him with a sharp stick, Under his fur. Now the crowd gapes and chuckles, And boys and young women shuffle their feet in time to the dancing bear, They see him wobbling Against a dust of emerald and gold, And they are greatly delighted. The legs of the bear shake with fatigue And his back aches, And the shining grass-blades dazzle and confuse him. But still he dances, Because of the little, pointed stick.