Accelerando

What D'ye Lack? - V

Look how the pageant moves, in slow procession
Or in tumbling torrents of delight.
The gypsy tribe is here, the players -
All the faire their stage, their playing board --
And how they roar and bluster in their bellicose array,
Or in their vair and velvet strut and posture.
There, shambling in his rags, a madman mutters imprecations
And the gay stream parts to let him pass
Like a dark leaf borne away on unseen currents.
Here the jewel-encrusted courtier, and the merchant and the soldier,
With the blacksmith and the cooper, and the alewife and the maid
Flow together.
In a magical parade the travelers mingle;
Here and there a pool collects, reflecting
Light and shadow.
Lads in their manhood's youthful thrust
With bawds or blushing maidens jest in sunny shallows,
While padded merchants and their merry wives
With sumptuously-clad nobles and their entourage
Gather in deeper, shaded spots to take their ease,
And find their pleasure or their meat.
The alehouse garden fills, the innyard teems with visitors.
What would you, Masters? Mistresses?
A brief diversion? Some ripe comedy?
A drama of high life,
Or death? Of gain or loss? --
A romance then?
In dancing images the play unfolds,
And you within.