'Twas at the fair of Epinetz,
And all the country-side was there.
Each booth gave out its blatant strains,
And grinning came the sheepish swains,
Who greeted with approving stare
The movements of the marionettes,
While from his place well hid from sight
The master laboured, faint and white.
A villain dark, with cloak and plume,
Through two acts of imbroglio,
Pursued a maid of laughing mien
Who played a ribboned tambourine
And loved a gay incognito,
By whom the villain met his doom,
While Pierrot, in a comic part,
Danced to conceal a breaking heart.
'Twas late. The snow fell thick and still
The market place in silence lay.
The master, tired and overwrought,
For troupe and self a lodging sought.
The inn was full. He went his way
Across the heath; beyond the hill
Dawn found him wrapped from head to feet
In winter's snowy winding-sheet.
And as he sank in deadly sleep,
His spirit, like a floating haze,
Wavered a moment o'er the snow,
A valediction to bestow.
And solemnly, with wistful gaze,
The puppets bowed in reverence deep,
Speeding with farewells and regrets
The master of the Marionettes.