#English #Victorians
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.’
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear,
A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear,
The Landing “Just the place for a Snark!” the… As he landed his crew with care; Supporting each man on the top of… By a finger entwined in his hair.
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…
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…
The Baker’s Tale They roused him with muffins—they… They roused him with mustard and c… They roused him with jam and judic… They set him conundrums to guess.
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…
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...
“OH, when I was a little Ghost, A merry time had we! Each seated on his favourite post, We chumped and chawed the buttered… They gave us for our tea.”
'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,
“DON’T they consult the ‘Victims… I said. “They should, by rights, Give them a chance —because, you k… The tastes of people differ so, Especially in Sprites.”
The Hunting The Bellman looked uffish, and wr… “If only you’d spoken before! It’s excessively awkward to mentio… With the Snark, so to speak, at t…
’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!
Lady dear, if Fairies may For a moment lay aside Cunning tricks and elfish play, ’Tis at happy Christmas-tide. We have heard the children say—