_TO MOLLY AND HILDA_.
_That sunny afternoon in May,_
_How stealthily we crept away,_
_We three--(Good things are done in threes:_
_That is, good things in threes are done_
_When you make two and I make one.)--_
_To hatch our small conspiracies!_
_Between the blossomy apple-trees_
_(You recollect?) we sped, and then_
_Safe in the green heart of the wood_
_We breathed again._
_The purple flood the bluebells made_
_Washed round about us where we stood,_
_While voices, where the others played,_
_Assured us we were not pursued._
_A fence to climb or wriggle through,_
_A strip of meadow wet with dew_
_To cross, and lo! before us flared_
_The clump of yellow gorse we shared_
_With five young blackbirds and their mother._
_There, close beside our partners' nest,_
_And free from Mr. C. (that pest!),_
_And careless of the wind and damp,_
_We framed the story of_ The Flamp.
_And O! Collaborators kind,_
_The wish is often in my mind,_
_That we, in just such happy plight,--_
_With Chanctonbury Ring in sight,--_
_Some day may frame another._
E. V. L.
1896.