Days of Thespians Past
john clare stokes
Long past the forgotten lines
Well beyond the curtain call
From the bed and down the hall
To sit and mutter from Macbeth
Is this the end of Thespians
In some woodland sparse
Before the fireless hearth
From nostrils smoke leaking
Mute the cheers ringing flee
Mock the tongue tied stammer
Yet do I fear thy nature
Is this a dagger I see before me?
Nought's had, all's spent
Where our desire is got without content;
Tis safer to be that which we destroy
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
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