I took a corkscrew from the shelf: I went to wake them up myself. And when I found the door was locked, And when I found the door was shut, I tried to turn the handle, but Lewis Carroll. SOME HALLUCINATIONS He thought he saw an Elephant, "At length I realise," he said, He thought he saw a Buffalo He thought he saw a Rattlesnake He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk He looked again, and found it was "If this should stay to dine," he said, Sing for the Garish Eye "You'd best be getting home," he said; He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four He looked again, and found it was "Poor thing," he said, "poor silly thing! He thought he saw a Kangaroo That worked a coffee-mill: He looked again, and found it was "Were I to swallow this," he said, "I should be very ill!" 875 Lewis Carroll. SING FOR THE GARISH EYE SING for the garish eye, When moonless brandlings cling! Let the froddering crooner cry, And the braddled sapster sing. For never, and never again, Will the tottering beechlings play, The wracking globe unstrung, Of a day that knows no night! Diving away in the crowd Of sparkling frets in spray, The bratticed wrackers are singing aloud, Hasten, O hapful blue, Blue, of the shimmering brow, Hasten the deed to do That shall roddle the welkin now! For never again shall a cloud Out-thribble the babbling day, When bratticed wrackers are singing aloud, And the throngers croon in May! W. S. Gilbert. THE SHIPWRECK UPON the poop the captain stands, And pipes on deck the topsail hands "Ho! splice the anchor under-weigh!" "Ho! lubbers brave, belay! belay! For we must luff for Falmouth Bay The good ship was a racing yawl, But ere they made the Foreland Light, The wind it blew great gales that night, Full three sheets in the wind. And right across the tiller head To heave the trysail brace. Uffia What ship could live in such a sea? And right upon the Scilly Isles "Saved! saved!" with joy the sailors cry, And scandalize the skiff; As taut and hoisted high and dry And since that day in Falmouth Bay, The younkers hear the boatswains say 877 E. H. Palmer. UFFIA WHEN sporgles spanned the floreate mead Uffia gopped to meet her love Who smeeged upon the equat sea. Dately she walked aglost the sand; The boreal wind seet in her face; Harriet R. White. 'TIS SWEET TO ROAM 'Tis sweet to roam when morning's light And the crystal song of the woodbine bright And the blood-red moon in the blaze of noon And the wolf rings out with a glittering shout, THREE JOVIAL HUNTSMEN THERE were three jovial huntsmen, All the day they hunted, And nothing could they find But a ship a-sailing, A-sailing with the wind. One said it was a ship, The other said Nay; The third said it was a house And all the night they hunted, One said it was the moon, The other said Nay; The third said it was a cheese, And half o't cut away. Unknown. Unknown |