A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear Long has paled that
A Game of Fives
Five little girls, of Five, Four, Three, Two, One: Rolling on the hearthrug, full of tricks and fun. Five rosy girls, in years from Ten to Six: Sitting down to lessons – no more
Acrostic
Little maidens, when you look On this little story-book, Reading with attentive eye Its enticing history, Never think that hours of play Are your only HOLIDAY, And that in a HOUSE of joy Lessons
Phantasmagoria CANTO VI ( Dyscomfyture )
As one who strives a hill to climb, Who never climbed before: Who finds it, in a little time, Grow every moment less sublime, And votes the thing a bore: Yet, having once begun
Phantasmagoria Canto I (The Trystyng )
ONE winter night, at half-past nine, Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy, I had come home, too late to dine, And supper, with cigars and wine, Was waiting in the study. There was a
Preface to Hunting of the Snark
PREFACE If – and the thing is wildly possible – the charge of writing Nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but Instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced,
The Lang Coortin'
The ladye she stood at her lattice high, Wi’ her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The passers in the street, “There’s one that standeth at the door, And tirleth
Jabberwocky
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws
Phantasmagoria CANTO II ( Hys Fyve Rules )
“MY First – but don’t suppose,” he said, “I’m setting you a riddle – Is – if your Victim be in bed, Don’t touch the curtains at his head, But take them in the
Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur
“How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once the very wish Partook of the sublime: Then tell me how. Don’t put me off With your ‘another
All In The Golden Afternoon
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretense Our wanderings to guide. Ah, cruel Three!
The Lobster Quadrille
“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail, “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
Hiawathas' photographing ( Part IV)
Next to him the eldest daughter: She suggested very little Only asked if he would take her With her look of ‘passive beauty-‘ Her idea of passive beauty Was a squinting of the left-eye,
Madrigal
(To Miss May Forshall.) HE shouts amain, he shouts again, (Her brother, fierce, as bluff King Hal), “I tell you flat, I shall do that!” She softly whispers ” ‘May’ for ‘shall’!” He wistful
How Doth the Little Crocodile
How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail, And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale! How cheerfully he seems to grin How neatly spreads his claws, And welcomes little