that spied them first, our fancies thusly prompt.
There they hurry and stop for us to sigh.
Not cam'ra nor the -man for him they romped.
Three graces grace and give the static lie--
in a moment frozen. But more we'd see.
We would they'd greet us now approaching nigh,
to have 'nd hold they'd share with us their glee.
The trap for audience response now set.
Charm and mirth the scene--it is fertile green.
A font for creative words we must let,
gathered here then cut, crafted so, too lean.
This lyric is the most that we can get.
The graces were as they still there appear:
The only joy-create their own they met,
in freedom mindless of what man they sear.
