Where are the passions they essayed, <br />And where the tears they made to flow? <br />Where the wild humours they portrayed <br />For laughing worlds to see and know? <br />Othello's wrath and Juliet's woe? <br />Sir Peter's whims and Timon's gall? <br />And Millamant and Romeo? <br />Into the night go one and all. <br />Where are the braveries, fresh or frayed? <br />The plumes, the armours -- friend and foe? <br />The cloth of gold, the rare brocade, <br />The mantles glittering to and fro? <br />The pomp, the pride, the royal show? <br />The cries of war and festival? <br />The youth, the grace, the charm, the glow? <br />Into the night go one and all. <br />The curtain falls, the play is played: <br />The Beggar packs beside the Beau; <br />The Monarch troops, and troops the Maid; <br />The Thunder huddles with the Snow. <br />Where are the revellers high and low? <br />The clashing swords? The lover's call? <br />The dancers gleaming row on row? <br />Into the night go one and all.<br /><br />William Ernest Henley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-dead-actors/
