#English #Victorians
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,
The Barrister’s Dream 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…
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear,
'Haddock’s Eyes’ or 'The Aged Ag… 'Ways and Means’ or 'A—Sitting O… I’ll tell thee everything I can; There’s little to relate. I saw an aged, aged man,
’Twas brillig, and the slithy tove… Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
PREFACE If——and the thing is wildly possib… nonsense were ever brought against… instructive poem, it would be base… ``Then the bowsprit got mixed with…
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
Five little girls, of Five, Four,… Rolling on the hearthrug, full of… Five rosy girls, in years from Te… Sitting down to lessons —no more t… Five growing girls, from Fifteen…
He thought he saw an Elephant That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife. “At length I realize,” he said,
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…
The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright— And this was odd, because it was
When midnight mists are creeping, And all the land is sleeping, Around me tread the mighty dead, And slowly pass away. Lo, warriors, saints, and sages,
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little ski… By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain prete…
‘Haddock’s Eyes’ or 'The Aged Ag… 'Ways and Means’ or 'A-Sitting O… I’ll tell thee everything I can; There’s little to relate. I saw an aged, aged man,
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.’