Overheard
(Supposed to be after browning)
So the day dragged through,
And the afternoon brought the spangles,
The sawdust smell, the tights,
The flickering, flashing lights,
The smile to acknowledge the cheer
As the rider skips and jangles
The bells. Ye gods!—'twas queer
How the young equestriennes flew.
A programme redished, I lay
Back in my seat to gaze
On the faces around, to hear what folk say,
While the orchestra rattled and roared,
Murdering popular lays—
It was hot, too, and I felt bored.
Then a voice from behind, a rustling of dress,
The step of a man, a silence to settle,
A babble of children (how they push,
These little ones, making your coat in a mess),
A silence to settle, and after a gush
Of small talk, I sat and waited,
Shutting my eyes till the stream abated.
'Twas a tale of trouble, told in a rush.
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