He pays dancing fines
And warms his hands
Over open fires
Assassin of care
And earthly desire
His hopes run high
Then tumble down
So far away
There on his cloud
The throngs pay homage
To one so proud
The Jester sits
In dark repose
Just why he smiles
No body knows
The Jesters prayer
Like diamonds and rust
Fall on deaf ears
As so they must
The day has come
They will proclaim
So fearful of
The Jesters name
Lynne FincherSpringarden
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-jester-9/
