Three and thirty birds there stood <br />In an elder in a wood; <br />Called Melmillo -- flew off three, <br />Leaving thirty in the tree; <br />Called Melmillo -- nine now gone, <br />And the boughs held twenty-one; <br />Called Melmillo -- and eighteen <br />Left but three to nod and preen; <br />Called Melmillo -- three--two--one-- <br />Now of birds were feathers none. <br /> <br />Then stole slim Me.millo in <br />To that wood all dusk and green, <br />And with lean long palms outspread <br />Softly a strange dance did tread; <br />Not a note of music she <br />Had for echoing company; <br />All the birds were flown to rest <br />In the hollow of her breast; <br />In the wood -- thorn, elder willow -- <br />Danced alone -- lone danced Melmillo.<br /><br />Walter de la Mare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/melmillo/
