Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/86

 And the twain they scritched in mockery,
 * While the dancers go and come.

And, alas! in the evening, rosy and still,
 * Light-haired Lallerie

Bitterly quarrelled with Alliolyle
 * By the yellow-sanded sea.

The rising moon swam sweet and large
 * Before their furious eyes,

And they rolled and rolled to the coral marge
 * Where the surf for ever cries.

Too late, too lale, comes Muziomone:
 * Clear in the clear green sea

Alliolyle lies not alone,
 * But clasped with Lallerie.

He blows on his shell plaintiff notes;
 * Ape, parraquito, bee

Flock where a shoe on the salt wave floats,—
 * The shoe of Lallerie.

He fetches nightcaps, one and nine,
 * Grey apes he dowers three,

His house as fair as the Malmsey wine
 * Seems sad as cypress-tree.

Three bowls he brims with sweet honeycomb
 * To feast the bumble bees,