#English #Victorians
From his shoulder Hiawatha Took the camera of rosewood, Made of sliding, folding rosewood; Neatly put it all together. In its case it lay compactly,
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear,
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,
In winter, when the fields are whi… I sing this song for your delight. In Spring, when woods are getting… I’ll try and tell you what I mean… In Summer, when the days are long…
CHAPTER V. Advice from a Caterpillar The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and...
There are certain things —a spider… The income—tax, gout, an umbrella… That I hate, but the thing that I… Is a thing they call the SEA. Pour some salt water over the floo…
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…
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...
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
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.
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…
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
‘Here!’ cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box wi...
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,
Lady Clara Vere de Vere Was eight years old, she said: Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran… She took her little porringer: Of me she shall not win renown: