Dancing Dust

Poems by Mollie Caird (1922-2000)

April, 1964

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This joyful month, four hundred years ago,
Was happy Mistress Shakespeare brought to bed;
The infant mewled and puked — how could she know
What miracles would bud from that small head:
A world of wonders (and all the world's a stage)
Where Prospero wove spells, and Brutus fought,
And valiant Hal, aflame with righteous rage,
Thundered before the breach at Agincourt.
Twin-born with Beatrice under a dancing star,
Bawdy as Falstaff, grave as the luckless Dane,
As deep in love as all his lovers are,
Our golden lad, sweet Will, we'll sing again,
Since proud-pied April dressed in all his trim
Gave us the spirit of youth and gave us him.

Oxford Times, 17 April 1964
The Dancing Dust and other poems, 1983