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Ballet Sol
circa 1936
With streaming costume of the dance, And slanting in as tho to lance The precessioning worlds that creep, Our prima donna’s comet sweep Slips the grasp of the mighty sun, Whose armored might of gold is spun, And leaps again far into space. The sun is chained and gives no chase Tho never is his love forgotten——
Ephemeral, star begotten Music of the gravitic lutes Shape elliptical convolutes To which pirouetting planets whirl And as their satellites they twirl About them, here match their ego To this skirling, high allegro. Each harp of closed, concentric rings Draws from its humming, weaving strings A cosmic rhythm. Savage drums Pound the ecliptic plane, it thrums And molds one all embracing whole, A living universe! A soul.
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