#EnglishWriters #Victorian
“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…
The Milk—and—Water School Alas! she would not hear my prayer… Yet it were rash to tear my hair; Disfigured, I should be less fair… She was unwise, I may say blind;
“WHAT’S this?” I pondered. “Ha… 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.
Lays of Mystery, Imagination, and Humor Number 1 I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls, And each damp thing that creeps an…
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other tw...
I have a horse– a ryghte good hors… Ne doe Y envye those Who scoure ye playne yn headye cou… Tyll soddayne on theyre nose They lyghte wyth unexpected force
For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood—(she considered him to be a footman bec...
“Are you deaf, Father William!” t… “Did you hear what I told you jus… ”Excuse me for shouting! Don’t wa… “Like a blundering, sleepy old cow… ”A little maid dwelling in Wallin…
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 realise,’ he said,
‘You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!’ said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice’s, and they walked off together. Alice was very g...
’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!
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:
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs choked his voice. ‘Same as if he ha...
Why is it that Poetry has never yet been subjected to that process of Dilution which has proved so advantageous to her sister—art Music? The Diluter gives us first a few notes of some w...
Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no...
