You see me: I am plain: and growing baldish.

The clothes I wear are old, but carefully kept.

You do not know - indeed, how should you know?

That for years I have hardly eaten, hardly slept,

To learn this thing.

That does not matter to you.

You yawn, and wait to see what I can do.

When I was young, juggling was all I did:

I was the best of them;

But growing older, I wanted something better. To do the impossible! That was the question. And so I left the stage, and after months,

I thought of this - lying in bed one night ­It seemed ridiculous, too, it was so simple.

To balance one ball on another ball ­Tossing the upper one, to catch it, falling,

In easy balance again - that was the thing!

I started in next day.

Well, sir, you wouldn't believe how hard it was.

Mind you, I wasn't a greenhorn, but an expert ­

Made balls, or cards, or hoops, or wooden bottles,

Do anything but talk.

But this, by heaven,

This was a man's job!

And it took me years.

Practice, practice, practice! That's all it was.

Three times a year I took the stage again

To earn the money to keep alive with:

Used the old tricks, of course, though getting rusty.

Then I'd get off once more, and find a room

With a high ceiling for plenty of space,

And go to work again. It was three years

Before I got that balancing down cold ­

The balancing, not the tossing: just to balance

The one ball on the other, and keep it there...

Then came the tossing. That was harder.

Sometimes, by God, I thought I was going crazy!

My brain was full of crashing marble balls.

I'd reach out every direction and try to catch them ­

I couldn't, of course, - they'd all crash to the floor,

And keep on banging till my heart fell dead.

It seemed as if my mind was a dark room,

With a ceiling much too low; and every time

I flung a ball up, a million hit that ceiling.

They hit the gas-jet.

They broke the foolish lampshades.

I was always getting outsted for breaking things,

Denting the ceiling, cracking the plaster and walls.

The lady who lived above me complained of the noise:

So did the man who lived below me.

For five more years I seemed to be always moving -

Always cramming my collars into a bag,

And searching the columns of furnished rooms.

In ten years, though, I had the thing down perfect.

Ten years! I was over forty, and growing grey.

I hadn't married because I hadn't dared to ­

No money for it. It was taking chances.

Though as for that, I supposed I might have married,

A girl I met down south, doing a sketch ­

I liked her - she was willing, more than willing;

But I had this thing so on my mind, you see,

I couldn't be bothered, somehow, and let it go

I took my trick to the agents - and they went crazy.

They said they'd never seen a trick to touch it:

0, nothing to it! I was easy getting it on.

One man only - by George, I laughed at him! ­

Said the thing looked too easy, and wouldn't take.

But they gave me a little advance for a suit of clothes ­

I needed it - and , finally, set the night.

All this, you see, is what is standing before you ­

Only, that you don't know it, and I can't tell you.

You see me: I am plain: and growing baldish.

For me, you are rows of faces, lazy eyes.

What does it matter, to you, WHO entertains you?..

Now, at the chosen moment, the music dies...

I balance the one ball on the other ­

It seems so simple - and toss it up, and catch it In easy balance...

(My God!)

I'll do it again - for Christ's sake watch me this time!

I balance the one ball on the other...

Dip it, and toss it up, and softly catch it

In easy balance again... I toss it and catch it...

I walk around and keep it balancing there...

I toss it and catch it... And all the hands are silent!

What is it I am trying to balance - brains?

Or a foolish human life?

There's the curtain falling - and I am over.

I will breathe gas tonight in a locked room,

And forget those faces...

Get out of my way! I'm going home.

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