Dancing Dust
	Poems by Mollie Caird (1922-2000)
	The dancing dust
Home Alphabetic index of poems Thematic index of poems Biography Gallery Contact and links	The sun has cast a slanting beam Into my room; with arms out-thrust My little boy pursues the gleam Of dancing, insubstantial dust. He cannot catch the elusive toy, But, eager-handed and intent, He tries again with anxious joy, Caught between tears and merriment. Thus wrapt, he stands transfigured there, And through his dark eyes shines his soul, His hands are flowers, and of his hair The sun has made an aureole. So does the artist try to seize The airy motes that throng his brain, Knowing creation's agonies, The fierce delight and fiercer pain. 'In his own image' it was said: The artist like his maker stands With godlike glory round his head And beauty slipping through his hands. Undated. about 1951 The Dancing Dust and other poems, 1983