'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
He thought he saw an Elephant
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
"SISTER, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head."
Thus the prudent brother said.
Five little girls, of Five, Four, Three, Two, One:
Rolling on the hearthrug, full of tricks and fun.
Five rosy girls, in years from Ten to Six:
I painted her a gushing thing,
With years about a score;
I little thought to find they were
A least a dozen more;
Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright --
Sent to a friend who had complained that I was glad enough to see
him when he came, but didn't seem to miss him if he stayed away.
And cannot pleasures, while they last,
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --
Children three that nestle near,
Lady Clara Vere de Vere
Was eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.