Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1767/At the Theatre

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AT THE THEATRE.

On the stage an acted horror,
A king crime-haunted to death;
Around me glitter and glare,
And fans that harry an air
That stifles me breath by breath;

And eyes all one way gazing
On the magical master-player,
Whose face, chameleon-wise,
Reflects all moods that arise, —
Craft, crime, and credulous prayer.

I gaze, and listen — but sudden
I dream in midst of the play;
And the king may threaten or whine,
It seems no matter of mine, —
I am twenty miles away.

Down in a mossy dingle,
Where sinless, a stranger to pain,
And friend to all winds that blow,
And hearing the fresh herbs grow,
And feeling the dew or the rain,

A slight wind-flower is hiding,
Green-scarfed, white-faced as the snow;
The young year's earliest child,
That I found last morn growing wild,
And spoke with, and left it to grow.

Spectator.F. Wyville Home.
7 Belgrave Villas, Lee, S.E.