Our Merry Terpsichore

One recedes; another gains
One turns while one remains

Mapping fortune, day to day
We live an endless roundelay

Never florid variation
Lest we vitiate creation

Gamut we are young to see
Yet cleave we to its melody

Each is to a role acceding
Some pursuing, others leading

Changing hands without departing
Starting end, and end a starting

Sumangali Morhall
January 2005