The poem catches a private, almost magical moment: someone dancing alone among dark yew trees and ferns. The speaker sees the dancer as a “ruby shadow,” a flash of red turning through all the green, and compares the movement to an autumn leaf twisting in the air. Birdsong becomes the music, so the dance feels quiet and natural rather than performed for an audience. The mood is lush, hushed, and slightly mysterious. In the last lines, the speaker notices the dancer’s body beginning to “bud and flower” beneath the ferns and says, “I glimpse the wind.” That phrase suggests more than moving air—it hints at time passing, youth changing, or a sudden awareness of growth. The speaker’s tone is tender and watchful, as if holding onto a fleeting moment of beauty.
Ballet — Summary
Dwarfed by black yews you pirouette, a ruby shadow in green arabesque fern.
Twirling like an autumn leaf you dance in the shade for a flute of birds.
Beneath a quilt of fern your breasts bud and flower I glimpse the wind.