I have loved the white ballets
the Romantic Age
the edge of snow ethereally staged
the last Ideals
held in the mind
hardest to know
assuming the swans
the distance the space
time made of diamonds
and infinite grace
the white ballets
and the lilies consigned
at each performance
to the Divine
that light that finds us
in other realms
the leap into silence
from glittering spells
the white ballets
the tragedienne's stories
mirage and mirage
of a clouded glory
the white ballets
I have understood
misplaced in an age
that bodes no good
for having abandoned
pale Beauty this way
for clocking the mystery
and making it pay
somewhere I may find them
like queens of the May
enacting the past
with no place to stay
where else could they wander
white flowers and all
than in the commencements
when I was too small.
mary angela douglas 5 march 2023
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