MELMILLO

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