HARLEQUIN

Felicia Olin, The Jester

He plays his jest upon a stage of hearts,

Too poor a player to be more than clown,

A comic shadow working at his part

To keep away the silence and break down

His own misfortunes to amuse.  He takes

The leading passions of a heart and

Juggles them until, on cue, they break.

He slips on a banana peel of love and lands,

With much commotion, on his face.

Turns all to laughter and since life is spent

In Folly’s grip why dull the jest with grace?

But this inconsequential ornament

Well has earned his comic epitaph:

She was beautiful, I made her laugh.

 Hugh Moore