#EnglishWriters #Victorian
“MY First —but don’t suppose,” he… “I’m setting you a riddle – Is– if your Victim be in bed, Don’t touch the curtains at his he… But take them in the middle,
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…
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
“AND did you really walk,” said… “On such a wretched night? I always fancied Ghosts could fly… If not exactly in the sky, Yet at a fairish height.”
“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.”
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
CHAPTER III. A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur c...
’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!
AY, 'twas here, on this spot, In that summer of yore, Atalanta did not Vote my presence a bore, Nor reply to my tenderest talk “S…
‘Will you walk a little faster?’ s… ‘There’s a porpoise close behind u… See how eagerly the lobsters and t… They are waiting on the shingle—wi… Will you, won’t you, will you, won…
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…
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,
Little maidens, when you look On this little story—book, Reading with attentive eye Its enticing history, Never think that hours of play
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,