Tropic of Cancer

The tropic of the cancer
 In every solitary dancer
 Is a line dividing dream
 From hard devotion
 Residing in the heart
 It stands destiny apart
 From all decision
 Though we stumble
 Through the motion
 The country that we live in
 And all the names we have given
 A sky called blue and a love
 That speaks in English
 Stretched out between the poles
 All of this territory rolls
 The great blind empty
 Between the mind
 And whatever love is
 Love is
 A ring around a rose
 The only dance the compass knows
 Trains the needle on a thing we cannot find
 A rose by any other
 Name a thing and soon discover
 The finest pin will never hold a butterfly
 The heart as it relaxes
 Undressed upon its axis
 Like a plain girl
 With all the paint rubbed off
 It whispers to our bones
 That we are everyone alone
 Of the word and by the word again forsaken
 And still my restless tongue
 Caring nothing for the sum
 Begins the calculus of hope and intuition
 A ring around a rose
 The only dance the compass knows
 Trains the needle on the thing we cannot find
 In the hothouse of our passion
 So much striving and so much fashion
 When God alone will call a rose a rose
 God alone will call a rose a rose
 God alone will call a rose a rose