An Ode To Feste Poem by Christian Muller

All hate we give to him that dares to play the clown.
So crass his colours flare within our halls of grey.
He fills the air with laughs (mostly from him) . 'Away!
Be gone! ' (Think players of the proper plays) . Out down
By better stage, with proper dress and finer hue.
What need have we for clowns in proper plays of love?
Can he with painted face and jingling bells so prove
His worth? When 'long side maidens pure and lovers true?
All praise we give to he who knows to play the fool.
Better to act the fool with jest, than those so full
Of properness, who choose to be the fool. Just know,
In properness, one is the proper fool. The wise
They yearn to laugh. And whether lover lives or dies.
The clown he steals the final line and takes his bow.