Brother And Sister
“SISTER, sister, go to bed! Go and rest your weary head.” Thus the prudent brother said. “Do you want a battered hide, Or scratches to your face applied?” Thus his sister calm replied. “Sister,
Prologue
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 pretence Our wanderings to guide. Ah, cruel Three!
The Sea
There are certain things – a spider, a ghost, The income-tax, gout, an umbrella for three – That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most Is a thing they call the
My Fairy
I have a fairy by my side Which says I must not sleep, When once in pain I loudly cried It said “You must not weep” If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
She's All My Fancy Painted Him
She’s all my fancy painted him (I make no idle boast); If he or you had lost a limb, Which would have suffered most? He said that you had been to her, And seen
The Walrus And The Carpenter
Tweedledee said to Alice, “You like poetry-“ “Ye-es, pretty well-some poetry,” Alice said doubtfully. “What shall I repeat to her,” said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes. “‘The Walrus and the
Fit the Fifth ( Hunting of the Snark )
The Beaver’s Lesson They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap.
Phantasmagoria CANTO VII ( Sad Souvenaunce )
“WHAT’S this?” I pondered. “Have I slept? Or can I have been drinking?” But soon a gentler feeling crept Upon me, and I sat and wept An hour or so, like winking. “No need
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat!
How I wonder what you’re at!’You know the song, perhaps?” “I’ve heard something like it,” said Alice. “It goes on, you know,” the Hatter continued, “in this way: ‘Up above the world you fly,
A Valentine
Sent to a friend who had complained that I was glad enough to see Him when he came, but didn’t seem to miss him if he stayed away. And cannot pleasures, while they last,
My Fancy
I painted her a gushing thing, With years about a score; I little thought to find they were A least a dozen more; My fancy gave her eyes of blue, A curly auburn head:
The Aged Aged Man
I’ll tell thee everything I can; There’s little to relate. I saw an aged aged man, A-sitting on a gate. “Who are you, aged man?” I said, “And how is it you live?” And
Fit the First: ( Hunting of the Snark )
The Landing “Just the place for a Snark!” the Bellman cried, As he landed his crew with care; Supporting each man on the top of the tide By a finger entwined in his hair.
Fame's Penny-Trumpet
Blow, blow your trumpets till they crack, Ye little men of little souls! And bid them huddle at your back – Gold-sucking leeches, shoals on shoals! Fill all the air with hungry wails –
Theme with Variations
I never loved a dear Gazelle Nor anything that cost me much: High prices profit those who sell, But why should I be fond of such? To glad me with his soft black eye