I had made my round, as yet with little gain <br />Of undiscovered good in that gay place. <br />I had sought my share of pleasure, but in vain. <br />Laughter was not for me, and hid her face. <br />I had asked for mirth. The oracles were dumb. <br />No sound of Folly with her tinkling feet <br />Had bid my own feet follow, and no home <br />Was mine for merriment or musings sweet. <br />I had ceased to hope and almost ceased to seek, <br />When, from the farthest booth of all, the bray <br />Of brass and drums and fiddling and the shriek <br />Of a dwarf's voice invited me to stay. <br />The crowd, as scenting some more mirthful thing, <br />Surged round that booth agape and wondering.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/esther-a-sonnet-sequence-vii/
