Simon Whitfield


Our Planet

Ancestral cradle of the human race,
Sunrise and sunset sweeping gently round
To what high cosmic melody, whose sound
Can mark the measure of her dance in space,
Enwrapped in filaments of cloudy lace.
At either axis permanently crowned
With brilliant white, in spreading oceans gowned,
Gaia, the planetary queen of grace,
No longer seen as there to be subdued

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