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Poem by Margaret Cavendish

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All Sharpe Atomes Do Run To The Center, And -
those that settle not, by reason of the straitnesse
of the Place, flye out to the Circumference.
Sharpe Atomes to the Center, make a Sun.
ALL Atomes sharpe to every Center flye,
In midst of Earth, and midst of Planets lye;
And in those Planets there are Centers too,
Where the sharpe Atomes with quicke Motion go.
And to the Center of the Earth they run,
There gathering close, and so become a Sun.
This is the Axe whereon the Earth turnes round,
And gives the heat which in the Earth is found;
A World of Fire: thus may we guesse the Sun;
If all sharpe Atomes to the Center run.
For why, the Sun amongst the Planets round,
Just as a Center, in the midst is found.
And fixed Stars, which give a twinckling Light,
Are Center Worlds of Fire, that shineth bright. 

Margaret Cavendish

Margaret Cavendish's other poems:
  1. What Atomes Make the Wind Collick
  2. Of Aire
  3. Of Sharpe Atomes
  4. Cavendish
  5. The Weight of Atomes

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