The Circus In The West

All through the little prairie town 'Mid dusty levels broad and brown I saw the Circus pacing on; I felt its vague barbaric spell, I smelt the queer old circus smell As old Rome or Babylon. The tinsel gleamed, the big drum rolled, The ponies pranced and caracoled In gaudy gilt caparison; And still beneath it was the strange Sad undertone of Time and Change, - As erst in vanished Babylon. I saw where, wrinkled, grey and wise, With swaying gait and brooding eyes, The elephants went pacing on, Unmoved amid the gaping throng, As if they only thought: 'How long - How far from here to Babylon?' No longer than this restless hour, Its lust and folly, pride and power, To-day as in the ages gone: No further than this feverish, queer, New town which was not yesteryear Need mankind seek for Babylon. New towns in strange new lands arise; But old as earth and stars and skies The Circus of the world goes on; Still traveling on its ancient round Where'er man's dust of dreams is found - Here - now - to-day - in Babylon.