Lewis Carroll Poems

There are certain things - as, a spider, a ghost,
The income-tax, gout, an umbrella for three -
That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most
Is a thing they call the Sea.
...

All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
...

When midnight mists are creeping,
And all the land is sleeping,
Around me tread the mighty dead,
...

Inscribed to a Dear Child:
In Memory of Golden Summer Hours
And Whispers of a Summer Sea
...

"You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?
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A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --

...

Little maidens, when you look
On this little story-book,
Reading with attentive eye
Its enticing history,
...

AY, 'twas here, on this spot,
In that summer of yore,
Atalanta did not
Vote my presence a bore,
...

Fit the First
THE LANDING

'Just the place for a Snark!' the Bellman cried,
...

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,
...