Poem: Jester

 

Jester

 

stars roll none too proud,

bells on an idle cap in play,

 

till dawn crests

on waves yanked confused

and beclowned,

 

which trips the wind to spin and scrabble, 

dizzy on the reel of a sphere,

 

and so we animals, the hapless butt

of such foolery,

celebrate and suffer.

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