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Melmillo

 Three and thirty birds there stood 
In an elder in a wood; 
Called Melmillo -- flew off three, 
Leaving thirty in the tree; 
Called Melmillo -- nine now gone, 
And the boughs held twenty-one; 
Called Melmillo -- and eighteen 
Left but three to nod and preen; 
Called Melmillo -- three--two--one-- 
Now of birds were feathers none.
Then stole slim Me.
millo 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.

Poem by Walter De La Mare
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things