All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretense Our wanderings to guide. ...
"Are you deaf, Father William!" the young man said, "Did you hear what I told you just now?" "Excuse me for shouting! Don't waggle your head" "Like a blundering, sleepy old cow!"...
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 "She had heard all that nonsense before." ...
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap....
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap. ...
"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried, As he landed his crew with care; Supporting each man on the top of the tide By a finger entwined in his hair....
The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow. "If only you'd spoken before! It's excessively awkward to mention it now, With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!...
The Bellman himself they all praised to the skies, Such a carriage, such ease and such grace! Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise, The moment one looked in his face!...
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap....
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap....
They roused him with muffins,they roused him with ice, They roused him with mustard and cress, They roused him with jam and judicious advice, They set him conundrums to guess....
One winter night, at half-past nine, 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. ...
If, and the thing is wildly possible, the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line ...
When on the sandy shore I sit, Beside the salt sea-wave, And fall into a weeping fit Because I dare not shave A little whisper at my ear Enquires the reason of my fear. ...
And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line: "Speak roughly to your little boy, And beat him when he sneezes;...
Why is it that Poetry has never yet been subjected to that process of Dilution which has proved so advantageous to her sister-art Music? The Diluter gives us first a few notes of some well-known Air, then a dozen bars of his ow...