#EnglishWriters #Victorian
With saddest music all day long She soothed her secret sorrow: At night she sighed “I fear 'twas… Such cheerful words to borrow. Dearest, a sweeter, sadder song
“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.
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…
‘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...
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.
There was a young lady of station ‘I love man’ was her sole exclamat… But when men cried, 'You flatter’ She replied, 'Oh! no matter Isle of Man is the true explanati…
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…
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.
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,
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…
“Will you walk a little faster?” s… “There’s a porpoise close behind u… tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and t… They are waiting on the shingle—wi…
The day was wet, the rain fell sou… Like jars of strawberry jam, [1] a sound was heard in the old henhous… A beating of a hammer. Of stalwart form, and visage warm,
Little Birds are dining Warily and well, Hid in mossy cell: Hid, I say, by waiters Gorgeous in their gaiters —
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,
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.
