700

You’ve seen Balloons set—Haven’t You?
So stately they ascend—
It is as Swans—discarded You,
For Duties Diamond—

Their Liquid Feet go softly out
Upon a Sea of Blonde—
They spurn the Air, as t’were too mean
For Creatures so renowned—

Their Ribbons just beyond the eye—
They struggle—some—for Breath—
And yet the Crowd applaud, below—
They would not encore—Death—

The Gilded Creature strains—and spins—
Trips frantic in a Tree—
Tears open her imperial Veins—
And tumbles in the Sea—

The Crowd—retire with an Oath—
The Dust in Streets—go down—
And Clerks in Counting Rooms
Observe—”’Twas only a Balloon”—