#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Blow, blow your trumpets till they… Ye little men of little souls! And bid them huddle at your back — Gold—sucking leeches, shoals on sh… Fill all the air with hungry wails…
The ladye she stood at her lattice… Wi’ her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The passers in the street, ‘There’s one that standeth at the…
CHAPTER IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and...
The Banker’s Fate They sought it with thimbles, they… They pursued it with forks and hop… They threatened its life with a ra… They charmed it with smiles and so…
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 gr…
Sent to a friend who had complaine… him when he came, but didn’t seem… And cannot pleasures, while they l… Be actual unless, when past, They leave us shuddering and aghas…
The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of ca...
Alice was walking beside the Whit… ‘You are sad.’ the Knight said in… ‘Is it very long?’ Alice asked, f… 'It’s long.' said the Knight, 'bu… either it brings tears to their ey…
The Mad Gardener’s Song He thought he saw an Elephant, That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife.
ONE winter night, at half—past ni… 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.
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.
Lays of Mystery, Imagination, and Humor Number 1 I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls, And each damp thing that creeps an…
‘Tis the voice of the Lobster: I… ’You have baked me too brown, I m… As a duck with its eyelids, so he… Trims his belt and his buttons, an… When the sands are all dry, he is…
The Three Voices The First Voice He trilled a carol fresh and free, He laughed aloud for very glee: There came a breeze from off the s…
‘You are old, father William,’ th… ‘And your hair has become very whi… And yet you incessantly stand on y… Do you think, at your age, it is r… ‘In my youth,’ father William rep…