RINGMASTER
The widow now bereft, abhorred
Counts numbered fays the summer long
In Temple Prison with her spawn
On pretext of 'unnatural acts'
With jests and jibes and guile and facts
The 'sans culottes' prune the tree
Now a sister to the dispossessed
The halt, like maimed and all the rest
Like a leaf on a pitiless sea
Shorn of family and rank
Humbled in the dank air
She mingles with the dancers macabre
And the ghostly dancers twirl
In that dread minuet
And beggar the illusions of that little Austrian Girl