The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll with an introduction by Alexander Woollcott and the illustrations by John Tenniel |
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 | IV. | IV Sylvie and Bruno Concluded |
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| XXIII. |
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 | The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll |  |
527
IV
Sylvie and Bruno Concluded
529
[Dreams, that elude the Maker's frenzied grasp—]
Dreams, that elude the Maker's frenzied grasp—Hands, stark and still, on a dead Mother's breast,
Which nevermore shall render clasp for clasp,
Or deftly soothe a weeping Child to rest—
In suchlike forms me listeth to portray
My Tale, here ended. Thou delicious Fay—
The guardian of a Sprite that lives to tease thee—
Loving in earnest, chiding but in play
The merry mocking Bruno! Who, that sees thee,
Can fail to love thee, Darling, even as I?—
My sweetest Sylvie, we must say “Good-bye!”
523
Chapter I
Bruno's Lessons
530
[“King Fisher courted Lady Bird—]
“King Fisher courted Lady Bird—
Sing Beans, sing Bones, sing Butterflies!
‘Find me my match,’ he said,
‘With such a noble head—
With such a beard, as white as curd—
With such expressive eyes!’
Sing Beans, sing Bones, sing Butterflies!
‘Find me my match,’ he said,
‘With such a noble head—
With such a beard, as white as curd—
With such expressive eyes!’
“‘Yet pins have heads,’ said Lady Bird—
Sing Prunes, sing Prawns, sing Primrose-Hill!
‘And, where you stick them in,
They stay, and thus a pin
Is very much to be preferred
To one that's never still!’
Sing Prunes, sing Prawns, sing Primrose-Hill!
‘And, where you stick them in,
They stay, and thus a pin
Is very much to be preferred
To one that's never still!’
531
“‘Oysters have beards,’ said Lady Bird—
Sing Flies, sing Frogs, sing Fiddle-strings!
‘I love them, for I know
They never chatter so:
They would not say one single word—
Not if you crowned them Kings!’
Sing Flies, sing Frogs, sing Fiddle-strings!
‘I love them, for I know
They never chatter so:
They would not say one single word—
Not if you crowned them Kings!’
“‘Needles have eyes,’ said Lady Bird—
Sing Cats, sing Corks, sing Cowslip-tea!
‘And they are sharp—just what
Your Majesty is not:
So get you gone—'tis too absurd
To come a-courting me!’”
Sing Cats, sing Corks, sing Cowslip-tea!
‘And they are sharp—just what
Your Majesty is not:
So get you gone—'tis too absurd
To come a-courting me!’”
542
Chapter III
Streaks of Dawn
549
[“Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee]
“Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee;
Take, I give it willingly;
For, invisible to thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me!”
Take, I give it willingly;
For, invisible to thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me!”
559
Chapter V
Matilda Jane
564
[“Matilda Jane, you never look]
“Matilda Jane, you never look
At any toy or picture-book:
I show you pretty things in vain—
You must be blind, Matilda Jane!
At any toy or picture-book:
I show you pretty things in vain—
You must be blind, Matilda Jane!
“I ask you riddles, tell you tales,
But all our conversation fails:
You never answer me again—
I fear you're dumb, Matilda Jane!
But all our conversation fails:
You never answer me again—
I fear you're dumb, Matilda Jane!
“Matilda, darling, when I call,
You never seem to hear at all:
I shout with all my might and main—
But you're so deaf, Matilda Jane!
You never seem to hear at all:
I shout with all my might and main—
But you're so deaf, Matilda Jane!
“Matilda Jane, you needn't mind:
For, though you're deaf, and dumb, and blind,
There's some one loves you, it is plain—
And that is me, Matilda Jane!”
For, though you're deaf, and dumb, and blind,
There's some one loves you, it is plain—
And that is me, Matilda Jane!”
567
[“There's him, an' yo', an' me]
“There's him, an' yo', an' me,Roarin' laddies!
We loves a bit o' spree,
Roarin' laddies we,
Roarin' laddies
Roarin' laddies!”
630
Chapter XIII
What Tottles Meant
630
[“One thousand pounds per annuum]
“One thousand pounds per annuum
Is not so bad a figure, come!”
Cried Tottles. “And I tell you, flat,
A man may marry well on that!
To say ‘the Husband needs the Wife’
Is not the way to represent it.
The crowning joy of Woman's life
Is Man!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
Is not so bad a figure, come!”
Cried Tottles. “And I tell you, flat,
A man may marry well on that!
To say ‘the Husband needs the Wife’
Is not the way to represent it.
The crowning joy of Woman's life
Is Man!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
631
The blissful Honey-moon is past:
The Pair have settled down at last:
Mamma-in-law their home will share,
And make their happiness her care.
“Your income is an ample one:
Go it, my children!” (And they went it).
‘I rayther think this kind of fun
Won't last!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
The Pair have settled down at last:
Mamma-in-law their home will share,
And make their happiness her care.
“Your income is an ample one:
Go it, my children!” (And they went it).
‘I rayther think this kind of fun
Won't last!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
They took a little country-box—
A box at Covent Garden also:
They lived a life of double-knocks,
Acquaintances began to call so:
Their London house was much the same
(It took three hundred, clear, to rent it):
“Life is a very jolly game!”
Cried happy Tottles (and he meant it).
A box at Covent Garden also:
They lived a life of double-knocks,
Acquaintances began to call so:
Their London house was much the same
(It took three hundred, clear, to rent it):
“Life is a very jolly game!”
Cried happy Tottles (and he meant it).
“Contented with a frugal lot”
(He always used that phrase at Gunter's),
He bought a handy little yacht—
A dozen serviceable hunters—
The fishing of a Highland Loch—
A sailing-boat to circumvent it—
“The sounding of that Gaelic ‘och’
Beats me!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
(He always used that phrase at Gunter's),
He bought a handy little yacht—
A dozen serviceable hunters—
The fishing of a Highland Loch—
A sailing-boat to circumvent it—
“The sounding of that Gaelic ‘och’
Beats me!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
634
But oh, the worst of human ills
(Poor Tottles found) are “little bills”!
And, with no balance in the Bank,
What wonder that his spirits sank?
Still, as the money flowed away,
He wondered how on earth she spent it.
“You cost me twenty pounds a day,
At least!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
(Poor Tottles found) are “little bills”!
And, with no balance in the Bank,
What wonder that his spirits sank?
Still, as the money flowed away,
He wondered how on earth she spent it.
“You cost me twenty pounds a day,
At least!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
She sighed. “Those Drawing Rooms, you know!
I really never thought about it:
Mamma declared we ought to go—
We should be Nobodies without it.
That diamond-circlet for my brow—
I quite believed that she had sent it,
Until the Bill came in just now—”
“Viper!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
I really never thought about it:
Mamma declared we ought to go—
We should be Nobodies without it.
That diamond-circlet for my brow—
I quite believed that she had sent it,
Until the Bill came in just now—”
“Viper!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
635
Poor Mrs. T. could bear no more,
But fainted flat upon the floor.
Mamma-in-law, with anguish wild,
Seeks, all in vain, to rouse her child.
“Quick! Take this box of smelling-salts!
Don't scold her, James, or you'll repent it,
She's a dear girl, with all her faults—”
“She is!” groaned Tottles (and he meant it).
But fainted flat upon the floor.
Mamma-in-law, with anguish wild,
Seeks, all in vain, to rouse her child.
“Quick! Take this box of smelling-salts!
Don't scold her, James, or you'll repent it,
She's a dear girl, with all her faults—”
“She is!” groaned Tottles (and he meant it).
“I was a donkey,” Tottles cried,
“To choose your daughter for my bride!
'Twas you that bid us cut a dash!
'Tis you have brought us to this smash!
You don't suggest one single thing
That can in any way prevent it—”
“Then what's the use of arguing?”
Shut up!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
“To choose your daughter for my bride!
'Twas you that bid us cut a dash!
'Tis you have brought us to this smash!
You don't suggest one single thing
That can in any way prevent it—”
“Then what's the use of arguing?”
Shut up!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
639
“And, now the mischief's done, perhaps
You'll kindly go and pack your traps?
Since two (your daughter and your son)
Are Company, but three are none.
A course of saving we'll begin:
When change is needed, I'll invent it:
Don't think to put your finger in
This pie!” cried Tottles (and he meant it)
You'll kindly go and pack your traps?
Since two (your daughter and your son)
Are Company, but three are none.
A course of saving we'll begin:
When change is needed, I'll invent it:
Don't think to put your finger in
This pie!” cried Tottles (and he meant it)
660
See now this couple settled down
In quiet lodgings, out of town:
Submissively the tearful wife
Accepts a plain and humble life:
Yet begs one boon on bended knee:
“My ducky-darling, don't resent it!
Mamma might come for two or three—”
“NEVER!” yelled Tottles. And he meant it.
In quiet lodgings, out of town:
661
Accepts a plain and humble life:
Yet begs one boon on bended knee:
“My ducky-darling, don't resent it!
Mamma might come for two or three—”
“NEVER!” yelled Tottles. And he meant it.
666
Chapter XVI
Beyond These Voices
[‘We doubt not that, for one so true]
‘We doubt not that, for one so true,There must be other, nobler work to do,
Than when he fought at Waterloo,
And Victor he must ever be!’”
669
Chapter XVII
To the Rescue
671
[In stature the Manlet was dwarfish—]
In stature the Manlet was dwarfish—
No burly big Blunderbore he:
And he wearily gazed on the crawfish
His Wifelet had dressed for his tea.
“Now reach me, sweet Atom, my gunlet,
And hurl the old shoelet for luck:
Let me hie to the bank of the runlet,
And shoot thee a Duck!”
No burly big Blunderbore he:
And he wearily gazed on the crawfish
His Wifelet had dressed for his tea.
“Now reach me, sweet Atom, my gunlet,
And hurl the old shoelet for luck:
Let me hie to the bank of the runlet,
And shoot thee a Duck!”
She has reached him his minikin gunlet:
She has hurled the old shoelet for luck:
She is busily baking a bunlet,
To welcome him home with his Duck.
On he speeds, never wasting a wordlet,
Though thoughtlets cling, closely as wax,
To the spot where the beautiful birdlet
So quietly quacks.
She has hurled the old shoelet for luck:
She is busily baking a bunlet,
To welcome him home with his Duck.
On he speeds, never wasting a wordlet,
Though thoughtlets cling, closely as wax,
To the spot where the beautiful birdlet
So quietly quacks.
Where the Lobsterlet lurks, and the Crablet
So slowly and sleepily crawls:
Where the Dolphin's at home, and the Dablet
Pays long ceremonious calls:
Where the Grublet is sought by the Froglet:
Where the Frog is pursued by the Duck:
Where the Ducklet is chased by the Doglet—
So runs the world's luck!
So slowly and sleepily crawls:
Where the Dolphin's at home, and the Dablet
Pays long ceremonious calls:
Where the Grublet is sought by the Froglet:
Where the Frog is pursued by the Duck:
Where the Ducklet is chased by the Doglet—
So runs the world's luck!
He has loaded with bullet and powder:
His footfall is noiseless as air:
But the Voices grow louder and louder,
And bellow, and bluster, and blare.
They bristle before him and after,
They flutter above and below,
Shrill shriekings of lubberly laughter,
Weird wailings of woe!
His footfall is noiseless as air:
But the Voices grow louder and louder,
And bellow, and bluster, and blare.
They bristle before him and after,
They flutter above and below,
Shrill shriekings of lubberly laughter,
Weird wailings of woe!
672
They echo without him, within him:
They thrill through his whiskers and beard:
Like a teetotum seeming to spin him,
With sneers never hitherto sneered.
“Avengement,” they cry, “on our Foelet!
Let the Manikin weep for our wrongs!
Let us drench him, from toplet to toelet,
With Nursery-Songs!
They thrill through his whiskers and beard:
Like a teetotum seeming to spin him,
With sneers never hitherto sneered.
“Avengement,” they cry, “on our Foelet!
Let the Manikin weep for our wrongs!
Let us drench him, from toplet to toelet,
With Nursery-Songs!
“He shall muse upon ‘Hey! Diddle! Diddle!’
On the Cow that surmounted the Moon:
He shall rave of the Cat and the Fiddle,
And the Dish that eloped with the Spoon:
And his soul shall be sad for the Spider,
When Miss Muffet was sipping her whey,
That so tenderly sat down beside her,
And scared her away!
On the Cow that surmounted the Moon:
He shall rave of the Cat and the Fiddle,
And the Dish that eloped with the Spoon:
And his soul shall be sad for the Spider,
When Miss Muffet was sipping her whey,
That so tenderly sat down beside her,
And scared her away!
“The music of Midsummer-madness
Shall sting him with many a bite,
Till, in rapture of rollicking sadness,
He shall groan with a gloomy delight:
He shall swathe him, like mists of the morning,
In platitudes luscious and limp,
Such as deck, with a deathless adorning,
The Song of the Shrimp!
Shall sting him with many a bite,
Till, in rapture of rollicking sadness,
He shall groan with a gloomy delight:
He shall swathe him, like mists of the morning,
In platitudes luscious and limp,
Such as deck, with a deathless adorning,
The Song of the Shrimp!
“When the Ducklet's dark doom is decided,
We will trundle him home in a trice:
And the banquet, so plainly provided,
Shall round into rose-buds and rice:
In a blaze of pragmatic invention
He shall wrestle with Fate, and shall reign:
But he has not a friend fit to mention,
So hit him again!”
We will trundle him home in a trice:
And the banquet, so plainly provided,
Shall round into rose-buds and rice:
In a blaze of pragmatic invention
He shall wrestle with Fate, and shall reign:
But he has not a friend fit to mention,
So hit him again!”
673
He has shot it, the delicate darling!
And the Voices have ceased from their strife:
Not a whisper of sneering or snarling,
As he carries it home to his wife:
Then, cheerily champing the bunlet
His spouse was so skilful to bake,
He hies him once more to the runlet,
To fetch her the Drake!
And the Voices have ceased from their strife:
Not a whisper of sneering or snarling,
As he carries it home to his wife:
Then, cheerily champing the bunlet
His spouse was so skilful to bake,
He hies him once more to the runlet,
To fetch her the Drake!
682
Chapter XIX
A Fairy-Duet
692
[“Say, what is the spell, when her fledgelings are cheeping]
“Say, what is the spell, when her fledgelings are cheeping,
That lures the bird home to her nest?
Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping,
To cuddle and croon it to rest?
What's the magic that charms the glad babe in her arms,
Till it cooes with the voice of the dove?”
“'Tis a secret, and so let us whisper it low—
And the name of the secret is Love!”
That lures the bird home to her nest?
Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping,
To cuddle and croon it to rest?
What's the magic that charms the glad babe in her arms,
Till it cooes with the voice of the dove?”
693
And the name of the secret is Love!”
“For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!”
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!”
“Say, whence is the voice that, when anger is burning,
Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease?
That stirs the vexed soul with an aching—a yearning
For the brotherly hand-grip of peace?
Whence the music that fills all our being—that thrills
Around us, beneath, and above?”
“'Tis a secret: none knows how it comes, how it goes:
But the name of the secret is Love!”
Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease?
That stirs the vexed soul with an aching—a yearning
For the brotherly hand-grip of peace?
Whence the music that fills all our being—that thrills
Around us, beneath, and above?”
694
But the name of the secret is Love!”
“For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!”
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!”
“Say whose is the skill that paints valley and hill,
Like a picture so fair to the sight?
That flecks the green meadow with sunshine and shadow,
Till the little lambs leap with delight?”
“'Tis a secret untold to hearts cruel and cold,
Though 'tis sung, by the angels above,
In notes that ring clear for the ears that can hear—
And the name of the secret is Love!”
Like a picture so fair to the sight?
That flecks the green meadow with sunshine and shadow,
Till the little lambs leap with delight?”
“'Tis a secret untold to hearts cruel and cold,
Though 'tis sung, by the angels above,
In notes that ring clear for the ears that can hear—
And the name of the secret is Love!”
“For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!”
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!”
695
Chapter XX
Gammon and Spinach
701
[“He looked again, and found it was]
“He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
‘And all its Mystery,’ he said,
‘Is clear as day to me!’”
A Double Rule of Three:
‘And all its Mystery,’ he said,
‘Is clear as day to me!’”
“He thought he saw an Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
‘A fact so dread,’ he faintly said,
‘Extinguishes all hope!’”
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
‘A fact so dread,’ he faintly said,
‘Extinguishes all hope!’”
724
Chapter XXIII
The Pig-Tale
725
[Little Birds are dining]
Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters—
I've a Tale to tell.
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters—
I've a Tale to tell.
Little Birds are feeding
Justices with jam,
Rich in frizzled ham:
Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters—
That is what I am.
Justices with jam,
Rich in frizzled ham:
Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters—
That is what I am.
Little Birds are teaching
Tigresses to smile,
Innocent of guile:
Smile, I say, not smirkle—
Mouth a semicircle,
That's the proper style.
Tigresses to smile,
Innocent of guile:
Smile, I say, not smirkle—
Mouth a semicircle,
That's the proper style.
Little Birds are sleeping
All among the pins,
Where the loser wins:
Where, I say, he sneezes
When and how he pleases—
So the Tale begins.
All among the pins,
726
Where, I say, he sneezes
When and how he pleases—
So the Tale begins.
There was a Pig that sat alone
Beside a ruined Pump:
By day and night he made his moan—
It would have stirred a heart of stone
To see him wring his hoofs and groan,
Because he could not jump.
Beside a ruined Pump:
By day and night he made his moan—
It would have stirred a heart of stone
To see him wring his hoofs and groan,
Because he could not jump.
A certain Camel heard him shout—
A Camel with a hump.
“Oh, is it Grief, or is it Gout?
What is this bellowing about?”
That Pig replied, with quivering snout,
“Because I cannot jump!”
A Camel with a hump.
“Oh, is it Grief, or is it Gout?
What is this bellowing about?”
That Pig replied, with quivering snout,
“Because I cannot jump!”
That Camel scanned him, dreamy-eyed.
“Methinks you are too plump.
I never knew a Pig so wide—
That wobbled so from side to side—
Who could, however much he tried,
Do such a thing as jump!
“Methinks you are too plump.
I never knew a Pig so wide—
That wobbled so from side to side—
Who could, however much he tried,
Do such a thing as jump!
“Yet mark those trees, two miles away,
All clustered in a clump:
If you could trot there twice a day,
Nor ever pause for rest or play,
In the far future—Who can say?—
You may be fit to jump.”
All clustered in a clump:
If you could trot there twice a day,
Nor ever pause for rest or play,
In the far future—Who can say?—
You may be fit to jump.”
That Camel passed, and left him there,
Beside the ruined Pump.
Oh, horrid was that Pig's despair!
His shrieks of anguish filled the air.
He wrung his hoofs, he rent his hair,
Because he could not jump.
Beside the ruined Pump.
Oh, horrid was that Pig's despair!
His shrieks of anguish filled the air.
He wrung his hoofs, he rent his hair,
Because he could not jump.
727
There was a Frog that wandered by—
A sleek and shining lump:
Inspected him with fishy eye,
And said “O Pig, what makes you cry?”
And bitter was that Pig's reply,
“Because I cannot jump!”
A sleek and shining lump:
Inspected him with fishy eye,
And said “O Pig, what makes you cry?”
And bitter was that Pig's reply,
“Because I cannot jump!”
That Frog he grinned a grin of glee,
And hit his chest a thump.
“O Pig,” he said, “be ruled by me,
And you shall see what you shall see.
This minute, for a trifling fee,
I'll teach you how to jump!
And hit his chest a thump.
“O Pig,” he said, “be ruled by me,
And you shall see what you shall see.
This minute, for a trifling fee,
I'll teach you how to jump!
“You may be faint from many a fall,
And bruised by many a bump:
But, if you persevere through all,
And practise first on something small,
Concluding with a ten-foot wall,
You'll find that you can jump!”
And bruised by many a bump:
But, if you persevere through all,
And practise first on something small,
Concluding with a ten-foot wall,
You'll find that you can jump!”
That Pig looked up with joyful start:
“Oh Frog, you are a trump!
Your words have healed my inward smart—
Come, name your fee and do your part:
Bring comfort to a broken heart,
By teaching me to jump!”
“Oh Frog, you are a trump!
Your words have healed my inward smart—
Come, name your fee and do your part:
Bring comfort to a broken heart,
By teaching me to jump!”
“My fee shall be a mutton-chop,
My goal this ruined Pump.
Observe with what an airy flop
I plant myself upon the top!
Now bend your knees and take a hop,
For that's the way to jump!”
My goal this ruined Pump.
Observe with what an airy flop
I plant myself upon the top!
Now bend your knees and take a hop,
For that's the way to jump!”
Uprose that Pig, and rushed, full whack,
Against the ruined Pump:
Rolled over like an empty sack,
And settled down upon his back,
While all his bones at once went “Crack!”
It was a fatal jump.
Against the ruined Pump:
728
And settled down upon his back,
While all his bones at once went “Crack!”
It was a fatal jump.
Little Birds are writing
Interesting books,
To be read by cooks:
Read, I say, not roasted—
Letterpress, when toasted,
Loses its good looks.
Interesting books,
To be read by cooks:
Read, I say, not roasted—
Letterpress, when toasted,
Loses its good looks.
Little Birds are playing
Bagpipes on the shore,
Where the tourists snore:
“Thanks!” they cry. ‘'Tis thrilling!
Take, oh take this shilling!
Let us have no more!”
Bagpipes on the shore,
Where the tourists snore:
“Thanks!” they cry. ‘'Tis thrilling!
729
Let us have no more!”
Little Birds are bathing
Crocodiles in cream,
Like a happy dream:
Like, but not so lasting—
Crocodiles, when fasting,
Are not all they seem!
Crocodiles in cream,
Like a happy dream:
Like, but not so lasting—
Crocodiles, when fasting,
Are not all they seem!
That Camel passed, as Day grew dim
Around the ruined Pump.
“O broken heart! O broken limb!
It needs,” that Camel said to him,
“Something more fairy-like and slim,
To execute a jump!”
Around the ruined Pump.
“O broken heart! O broken limb!
It needs,” that Camel said to him,
“Something more fairy-like and slim,
To execute a jump!”
That Pig lay still as any stone,
And could not stir a stump:
Nor ever, if the truth were known,
Was he again observed to moan,
Nor ever wring his hoofs and groan,
Because he could not jump.
And could not stir a stump:
Nor ever, if the truth were known,
Was he again observed to moan,
Nor ever wring his hoofs and groan,
Because he could not jump.
That Frog made no remark, for he
Was dismal as a dump:
He knew the consequence must be
That he would never get his fee—
And still he sits, in miserie,
Upon that ruined Pump!
Was dismal as a dump:
He knew the consequence must be
That he would never get his fee—
And still he sits, in miserie,
Upon that ruined Pump!
731
Little Birds are choking
Baronets with bun,
Taught to fire a gun:
Taught, I say, to splinter
Salmon in the winter—
Merely for the fun.
Baronets with bun,
Taught to fire a gun:
Taught, I say, to splinter
Salmon in the winter—
Merely for the fun.
732
Little Birds are hiding
Crimes in carpet-bags,
Blessed by happy stags:
Blessed, I say, though beaten—
Since our friends are eaten
When the memory flags.
Crimes in carpet-bags,
Blessed by happy stags:
Blessed, I say, though beaten—
Since our friends are eaten
When the memory flags.
Little Birds are tasting
Gratitude and gold,
Pale with sudden cold
Pale, I say, and wrinkled—
When the bells have tinkled,
And the Tale is told.
Gratitude and gold,
Pale with sudden cold
Pale, I say, and wrinkled—
When the bells have tinkled,
And the Tale is told.
| The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll | |