The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll with an introduction by Alexander Woollcott and the illustrations by John Tenniel |
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| V. |
 | EARLY VERSE |
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| VI. |
| VII. |
 | The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll |  |
779
EARLY VERSE
MY FAIRY
(1845)
I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said “You must not weep.”
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said “You must not weep.”
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says “You must not laugh;”
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said “You must not quaff.”
It says “You must not laugh;”
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said “You must not quaff.”
When once a meal I wished to taste
It said “You must not bite;”
When to the wars I went in haste
It said “You must not fight.”
It said “You must not bite;”
When to the wars I went in haste
It said “You must not fight.”
“What may I do?” at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said “You must not ask.”
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said “You must not ask.”
Moral: “You mustn't.”
780
PUNCTUALITY
Man naturally loves delay,
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done too late.
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done too late.
Let every hour be in its place
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.
And when the hour arrives, be there,
Where'er that “there” may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.
Where'er that “there” may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.
If dinner at “half-past” be placed,
At “half-past” then be dressed.
If at a “quarter-past” make haste
To be down with the rest.
At “half-past” then be dressed.
If at a “quarter-past” make haste
To be down with the rest.
Better to be before your time,
Than e'er to be behind;
To ope the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.
Than e'er to be behind;
To ope the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.
Moral
Let punctuality and careSeize every flitting hour,
So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,
E'en from a fading flower.
781
MELODIES
I
There was an old farmer of Readall,
Who made holes in his face with a needle,
Then went far deeper in
Than to pierce through the skin,
And yet strange to say he was made beadle.
Who made holes in his face with a needle,
Then went far deeper in
Than to pierce through the skin,
And yet strange to say he was made beadle.
II
There was an eccentric old draper,
Who wore a hat made of brown paper,
It went up to a point,
Yet it looked out of joint,
The cause of which he said was “vapour.”
Who wore a hat made of brown paper,
It went up to a point,
Yet it looked out of joint,
The cause of which he said was “vapour.”
III
There was once a young man of Oporta,
Who daily got shorter and shorter,
The reason he said
Was the hod on his head,
Which was filled with the heaviest mortar.
Who daily got shorter and shorter,
The reason he said
Was the hod on his head,
Which was filled with the heaviest mortar.
His sister, named Lucy O'Finner,
Grew constantly thinner and thinner;
The reason was plain,
She slept out in the rain,
And was never allowed any dinner.
Grew constantly thinner and thinner;
The reason was plain,
She slept out in the rain,
And was never allowed any dinner.
782
BROTHER AND SISTER
“Sister, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head.”
Thus the prudent brother said.
Go and rest your weary head.”
Thus the prudent brother said.
“Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?”
Thus his sister calm replied.
Or scratches to your face applied?”
Thus his sister calm replied.
“Sister, do not raise my wrath.
I'd make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth!”
I'd make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth!”
The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, “Only try!”
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, “Only try!”
Off to the cook he quickly ran.
“Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can.”
“Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can.”
“And wherefore should I lend it you?”
“The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew.”
“The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew.”
“What meat is in that stew to go?”
“My sister'll be the contents!”
“Oh!”
“You'll lend the pan to me, Cook?”
“No!”
Moral: Never stew your sister.
“My sister'll be the contents!”
“Oh!”
“You'll lend the pan to me, Cook?”
“No!”
Moral: Never stew your sister.
783
FACTS
Were I to take an iron gun,
And fire it off towards the sun;
I grant 'twould reach its mark at last,
But not till many years had passed.
And fire it off towards the sun;
I grant 'twould reach its mark at last,
But not till many years had passed.
But should that bullet change its force,
And to the planets take its course,
'Twould never reach the nearest star,
Because it is so very far.
And to the planets take its course,
'Twould never reach the nearest star,
Because it is so very far.
784
RULES AND REGULATIONS
A short direction
To avoid dejection,
By variations
In occupations,
And prolongation
Of relaxation,
And combinations
Of recreations,
And disputation
On the state of the nation
In adaptation
To your station,
By invitations
To friends and relations,
By evitation
Of amputation,
By permutation
In conversation,
And deep reflection
You'll avoid dejection.
To avoid dejection,
By variations
In occupations,
And prolongation
Of relaxation,
And combinations
Of recreations,
And disputation
On the state of the nation
In adaptation
To your station,
By invitations
To friends and relations,
By evitation
Of amputation,
By permutation
In conversation,
And deep reflection
You'll avoid dejection.
Learn well your grammar,
And never stammer,
Write well and neatly,
And sing most sweetly,
Be enterprising,
Love early rising,
Go walk of six miles,
Have ready quick smiles,
With lightsome laughter,
Soft flowing after.
Drink tea, not coffee;
Never eat toffy.
Eat bread with butter.
Once more, don't stutter.
Don't waste your money,
Abstain from honey.
Shut doors behind you,
(Don't slam them, mind you.)
Drink beer, not porter.
Don't enter the water
Till to swim you are able.
Sit close to the table.
Take care of a candle.
Shut a door by the handle,
Don't push with your shoulder
Until you are older.
Lose not a button.
Refuse cold mutton.
Starve your canaries.
Believe in fairies.
If you are able,
Don't have a stable
With any mangers.
Be rude to strangers.
And never stammer,
Write well and neatly,
And sing most sweetly,
Be enterprising,
Love early rising,
Go walk of six miles,
Have ready quick smiles,
With lightsome laughter,
Soft flowing after.
Drink tea, not coffee;
785
Eat bread with butter.
Once more, don't stutter.
Don't waste your money,
Abstain from honey.
Shut doors behind you,
(Don't slam them, mind you.)
Drink beer, not porter.
Don't enter the water
Till to swim you are able.
Sit close to the table.
Take care of a candle.
Shut a door by the handle,
Don't push with your shoulder
Until you are older.
Lose not a button.
Refuse cold mutton.
Starve your canaries.
Believe in fairies.
If you are able,
Don't have a stable
With any mangers.
Be rude to strangers.
Moral: Behave.
786
HORRORS
(1850)
Methought I walked a dismal place
Dim horrors all around;
The air was thick with many a face,
And black as night the ground.
Dim horrors all around;
The air was thick with many a face,
And black as night the ground.
I saw a monster come with speed,
Its face of grimmliest green,
On human beings used to feed,
Most dreadful to be seen.
Its face of grimmliest green,
On human beings used to feed,
Most dreadful to be seen.
I could not speak, I could not fly,
I fell down in that place,
I saw the monster's horrid eye
Come leering in my face!
I fell down in that place,
I saw the monster's horrid eye
Come leering in my face!
Amidst my scarcely-stifled groans,
Amidst my moanings deep,
I heard a voice, “Wake! Mr. Jones,
You're screaming in your sleep!”
Amidst my moanings deep,
I heard a voice, “Wake! Mr. Jones,
You're screaming in your sleep!”
787
MISUNDERSTANDINGS
If such a thing had been my thought,
I should have told you so before,
But as I didn't, then you ought
To ask for such a thing no more,
For to teach one who has been taught
Is always thought an awful bore.
I should have told you so before,
But as I didn't, then you ought
To ask for such a thing no more,
For to teach one who has been taught
Is always thought an awful bore.
Now to commence my argument,
I shall premise an observation,
On which the greatest kings have leant
When striving to subdue a nation,
And e'en the wretch who pays no rent
By it can solve a hard equation.
I shall premise an observation,
On which the greatest kings have leant
When striving to subdue a nation,
And e'en the wretch who pays no rent
By it can solve a hard equation.
Its truth is such, the force of reason
Can not avail to shake its power,
Yet e'en the sun in summer season
Doth not dispel so mild a shower
As this, and he who sees it, sees on
Beyond it to a sunny bower—
No more, when ignorance is treason,
Let wisdom's brows be cold and sour.
Can not avail to shake its power,
Yet e'en the sun in summer season
Doth not dispel so mild a shower
As this, and he who sees it, sees on
Beyond it to a sunny bower—
No more, when ignorance is treason,
Let wisdom's brows be cold and sour.
788
AS IT FELL UPON A DAY
As I was sitting on the hearth
(And O, but a hog is fat!)
A man came hurrying up the path,
(And what care I for that?)
(And O, but a hog is fat!)
A man came hurrying up the path,
(And what care I for that?)
When he came the house unto,
His breath both quick and short he drew.
His breath both quick and short he drew.
When he came before the door,
His face grew paler than before.
His face grew paler than before.
When he turned the handle round,
The man fell fainting to the ground.
The man fell fainting to the ground.
When he crossed the lofty hall,
Once and again I heard him fall.
Once and again I heard him fall.
When he came up to the turret stair,
He shrieked and tore his raven hair.
He shrieked and tore his raven hair.
When he came my chamber in,
(And O, but a hog is fat!)
I ran him through with a golden pin,
(And what care I for that?)
(And O, but a hog is fat!)
I ran him through with a golden pin,
(And what care I for that?)
789
YE FATTALE CHEYSE
Ytte wes a mirke an dreiry cave,
Weet scroggis owr ytte creepe.
Gurgles withyn ye flowan wave
Throw channel braid an deep
Weet scroggis owr ytte creepe.
Gurgles withyn ye flowan wave
Throw channel braid an deep
Never withyn that dreir recesse
Wes sene ye lyghte of daye,
Quhat bode azont yts mirkinesse
Nane kend an nane mote saye.
Wes sene ye lyghte of daye,
Quhat bode azont yts mirkinesse
Nane kend an nane mote saye.
Ye monarche rade owr brake an brae
An drave ye yellynge packe,
Hiz meany au' richte cadgily
Are wendynge yn hiz tracke.
An drave ye yellynge packe,
Hiz meany au' richte cadgily
Are wendynge yn hiz tracke.
Wi' eager iye, wi' yalpe an crye
Ye hondes yode down ye rocks,
Ahead of au' their companye
Renneth ye panky foxe.
Ye hondes yode down ye rocks,
Ahead of au' their companye
Renneth ye panky foxe.
Ye foxe hes soughte that cave of awe
Forewearied wi' hiz rin.
Quha nou ys he sae bauld an braw
To dare to enter yn?
Forewearied wi' hiz rin.
Quha nou ys he sae bauld an braw
To dare to enter yn?
Wi' eager bounde hes ilka honde
Gane till that caverne dreir,
Fou many a yowl ys hearde arounde,
Fou many a screech of feir.
Gane till that caverne dreir,
Fou many a yowl ys hearde arounde,
Fou many a screech of feir.
790
Like ane wi' thirstie appetite
Quha swalloweth orange pulp,
Wes hearde a huggle an a bite,
A swallow an a gulp.
Quha swalloweth orange pulp,
Wes hearde a huggle an a bite,
A swallow an a gulp.
Ye kynge hes lap frae aff hiz steid,
Outbrayde hiz trenchant brande;
“Quha on my packe of hondes doth feed,
Maun deye benead thilke hande.”
Outbrayde hiz trenchant brande;
“Quha on my packe of hondes doth feed,
Maun deye benead thilke hande.”
Sae sed, sae dune: ye stonderes
hearde
Fou many a mickle stroke,
Sowns lyke ye flappynge of a birde,
A struggle an a choke.
Fou many a mickle stroke,
Sowns lyke ye flappynge of a birde,
A struggle an a choke.
Owte of ye cave scarce fette
they ytte,
Wi pow an push and hau' —
Whereof Y've drawne a littel bytte,
Bot durst not draw ytte au.
Wi pow an push and hau' —
Whereof Y've drawne a littel bytte,
Bot durst not draw ytte au.
791
LAYS OF SORROW
No. 1
The day was wet, the rain fell souse
Like jars of strawberry jam, a
Sound was heard in the old henhouse,
A beating of a hammer.
Of stalwart form, and visage warm,
Two youths were seen within it,
Splitting up an old tree into perches for their poultry
At a hundred strokes a minute.
Like jars of strawberry jam, a
Sound was heard in the old henhouse,
A beating of a hammer.
Of stalwart form, and visage warm,
Two youths were seen within it,
Splitting up an old tree into perches for their poultry
At a hundred strokes a minute.
The work is done, the hen has taken
Possession of her nest and eggs,
Without a thought of eggs and bacon,
(Or I am very much mistaken:)
She turns over each shell,
To be sure that all's well,
Looks into the straw
To see there's no flaw,
Goes once round the house,
Half afraid of a mouse,
Then sinks calmly to rest
On the top of her nest,
First doubling up each of her legs.
Time rolled away, and so did every shell,
“Small by degrees and beautifully less,”
As the sage mother with a powerful spell
Forced each in turn its contents to express,
But ah! “imperfect is expression,”
Some poet said, I don't care who,
If you want to know you must go elsewhere,
One fact I can tell, if you're willing to hear,
He never attended a Parliament Session,
For I'm certain that if he had ever been there,
Full quickly would he have changed his ideas,
With the hissings, the hootings, the groans and the cheers.
And as to his name it is pretty clear
That it wasn't me and it wasn't you!
Possession of her nest and eggs,
Without a thought of eggs and bacon,
(Or I am very much mistaken:)
She turns over each shell,
To be sure that all's well,
Looks into the straw
To see there's no flaw,
Goes once round the house,
Half afraid of a mouse,
Then sinks calmly to rest
On the top of her nest,
First doubling up each of her legs.
Time rolled away, and so did every shell,
“Small by degrees and beautifully less,”
792
Forced each in turn its contents to express,
But ah! “imperfect is expression,”
Some poet said, I don't care who,
If you want to know you must go elsewhere,
One fact I can tell, if you're willing to hear,
He never attended a Parliament Session,
For I'm certain that if he had ever been there,
Full quickly would he have changed his ideas,
With the hissings, the hootings, the groans and the cheers.
And as to his name it is pretty clear
That it wasn't me and it wasn't you!
And so it fell upon a day,
(That is, it never rose again)
A chick was found upon the hay,
Its little life had ebbed away.
No longer frolicsome and gay,
No longer could it run or play.
“And must we, chicken, must we part?”
Its master cried with bursting heart,
And voice of agony and pain.
So one, whose ticket's marked “Return,”
When to the lonely roadside station
He flies in fear and perturbation,
Thinks of his home—the hissing urn—
Then runs with flying hat and hair,
And, entering, finds to his despair
He's missed the very latest train.
Too long it were to tell of each conjecture
Of chicken suicide, and poultry victim,
The deadly frown, the stern and dreary lecture,
The timid guess, “perhaps some needle pricked him!”
The din of voice, the words both loud and many,
The sob, the tear, the sigh that none could smother,
Till all agreed “a shilling to a penny
It killed itself, and we acquit the mother!”
Scarce was the verdict spoken,
When that still calm was broken,
A childish form hath burst into the throng;
With tears and looks of sadness,
That bring no news of gladness,
But tell too surely something hath gone wrong!
“The sight that I have come upon
The stoutest heart would sicken,
That nasty hen has been and gone
And killed another chicken!”
(That is, it never rose again)
A chick was found upon the hay,
Its little life had ebbed away.
No longer frolicsome and gay,
No longer could it run or play.
“And must we, chicken, must we part?”
Its master cried with bursting heart,
And voice of agony and pain.
So one, whose ticket's marked “Return,”
When to the lonely roadside station
He flies in fear and perturbation,
Thinks of his home—the hissing urn—
Then runs with flying hat and hair,
And, entering, finds to his despair
He's missed the very latest train.
793
Of chicken suicide, and poultry victim,
The deadly frown, the stern and dreary lecture,
The timid guess, “perhaps some needle pricked him!”
The din of voice, the words both loud and many,
The sob, the tear, the sigh that none could smother,
Till all agreed “a shilling to a penny
It killed itself, and we acquit the mother!”
Scarce was the verdict spoken,
When that still calm was broken,
A childish form hath burst into the throng;
With tears and looks of sadness,
That bring no news of gladness,
But tell too surely something hath gone wrong!
“The sight that I have come upon
The stoutest heart would sicken,
That nasty hen has been and gone
And killed another chicken!”
The system of return tickets is an excellent one. People are conveyed, on particular days, there and back again for one fare.
794
LAYS OF SORROW
No. 2
Fair stands the ancient
Rectory,
The Rectory of Croft,
The sun shines bright upon it,
The breezes whisper soft.
The Rectory of Croft,
The sun shines bright upon it,
The breezes whisper soft.
From all the house and garden,
Its inhabitants come forth,
And muster in the road without,
And pace in twos and threes about,
The children of the North.
Its inhabitants come forth,
And muster in the road without,
And pace in twos and threes about,
The children of the North.
Some are waiting in the garden,
Some are waiting at the door,
And some are following behind,
And some have gone before.
But wherefore all this mustering?
Wherefore this vast array?
A gallant feat of horsemanship
Will be performed to-day.
Some are waiting at the door,
And some are following behind,
And some have gone before.
But wherefore all this mustering?
Wherefore this vast array?
A gallant feat of horsemanship
Will be performed to-day.
To eastward and to westward,
The crowd divides amain,
Two youths are leading on the steed,
Both tugging at the rein;
And sorely do they labour,
For the steed is very strong,
And backward moves its stubborn feet,
And backward ever doth retreat,
And drags its guides along.
The crowd divides amain,
Two youths are leading on the steed,
Both tugging at the rein;
795
For the steed is very strong,
And backward moves its stubborn feet,
And backward ever doth retreat,
And drags its guides along.
And now the knight hath mounted,
Before the admiring band,
Hath got the stirrups on his feet,
The bridle in his hand.
Yet, oh! beware, sir horseman!
And tempt thy fate no more,
For such a steed as thou hast got
Was never rid before!
Before the admiring band,
Hath got the stirrups on his feet,
The bridle in his hand.
Yet, oh! beware, sir horseman!
And tempt thy fate no more,
For such a steed as thou hast got
Was never rid before!
The rabbits bow before thee,
And cower in the straw;
The chickens are submissive,
And own thy will for law;
Bullfinches and canary
Thy bidding do obey;
And e'en the tortoise in its shell
Doth never say thee nay.
And cower in the straw;
The chickens are submissive,
And own thy will for law;
Bullfinches and canary
Thy bidding do obey;
And e'en the tortoise in its shell
Doth never say thee nay.
But thy steed will hear no master,
Thy steed will bear no stick,
And woe to those that beat her,
And woe to those that kick!
For though her rider smite her,
As hard as he can hit,
And strive to turn her from the yard,
She stands in silence, pulling hard
Against the pulling bit.
Thy steed will bear no stick,
And woe to those that beat her,
And woe to those that kick!
For though her rider smite her,
As hard as he can hit,
And strive to turn her from the yard,
796
Against the pulling bit.
And now the road to Dalton
Hath felt their coming tread,
The crowd are speeding on before,
And all have gone ahead.
Yet often look they backward,
And cheer him on, and bawl,
For slower still, and still more slow,
That horseman and that charger go,
And scarce advance at all.
Hath felt their coming tread,
The crowd are speeding on before,
And all have gone ahead.
Yet often look they backward,
And cheer him on, and bawl,
For slower still, and still more slow,
That horseman and that charger go,
And scarce advance at all.
And now two roads to choose from
Are in that rider's sight:
In front the road to Dalton,
And New Croft upon the right.
“I can't get by!” he bellows,
“I really am not able!
Though I pull my shoulder out of joint,
I cannot get him past this point,
For it leads unto his stable!”
Are in that rider's sight:
In front the road to Dalton,
And New Croft upon the right.
“I can't get by!” he bellows,
“I really am not able!
Though I pull my shoulder out of joint,
I cannot get him past this point,
For it leads unto his stable!”
Then out spake Ulfrid Longbow,
A valiant youth was he,
“Lo! I will stand on thy right hand
And guard the pass for thee!”
And out spake fair Flureeza,
His sister eke was she,
“I will abide on thy other side,
And turn thy steed for thee!”
A valiant youth was he,
“Lo! I will stand on thy right hand
And guard the pass for thee!”
And out spake fair Flureeza,
His sister eke was she,
“I will abide on thy other side,
And turn thy steed for thee!”
797
And now commenced a struggle
Between that steed and rider,
For all the strength that he hath left
Doth not suffice to guide her.
Though Ulfrid and his sister
Have kindly stopped the way,
And all the crowd have cried aloud,
“We can't wait here all day!”
Between that steed and rider,
For all the strength that he hath left
Doth not suffice to guide her.
Though Ulfrid and his sister
Have kindly stopped the way,
And all the crowd have cried aloud,
“We can't wait here all day!”
Round turned he as not deigning
Their words to understand,
But he slipped the stirrups from his feet
The bridle from his hand,
And grasped the mane full lightly,
And vaulted from his seat,
And gained the road in triumph,
And stood upon his feet.
Their words to understand,
But he slipped the stirrups from his feet
The bridle from his hand,
And grasped the mane full lightly,
And vaulted from his seat,
And gained the road in triumph,
And stood upon his feet.
All firmly till that moment
Had Ulfrid Longbow stood,
And faced the foe right valiantly,
As every warrior should.
But when safe on terra firma
His brother he did spy,
“What did you do that for?” he cried,
Then unconcerned he stepped aside
And let it canter by.
Had Ulfrid Longbow stood,
And faced the foe right valiantly,
As every warrior should.
But when safe on terra firma
His brother he did spy,
“What did you do that for?” he cried,
Then unconcerned he stepped aside
And let it canter by.
They gave him bread and butter,
That was of public right,
As much as four strong rabbits
Could munch from morn to night,
For he'd done a deed of daring,
And faced that savage steed,
And therefore cups of coffee sweet,
And everything that was a treat,
Were but his right and meed.
798
As much as four strong rabbits
Could munch from morn to night,
For he'd done a deed of daring,
And faced that savage steed,
And therefore cups of coffee sweet,
And everything that was a treat,
Were but his right and meed.
And often in the evenings,
When the fire is blazing bright,
When books bestrew the table
And moths obscure the light,
When crying children go to bed,
A struggling, kicking load;
We'll talk of Ulfrid Longbow's deed,
How, in his brother's utmost need,
Back to his aid he flew with speed,
And how he faced the fiery steed,
And kept the New Croft Road.
When the fire is blazing bright,
When books bestrew the table
And moths obscure the light,
When crying children go to bed,
A struggling, kicking load;
We'll talk of Ulfrid Longbow's deed,
How, in his brother's utmost need,
Back to his aid he flew with speed,
And how he faced the fiery steed,
And kept the New Croft Road.
This Rectory has been supposed to have been built in the time of Edward VI, but recent discoveries clearly assign its origin to a much earlier period. A stone has been found in an island formed by the river Tees on which is inscribed the letter “A,” which is justly conjectured to stand for the name of the great King Alfred, in whose reign this house was probably built.
A full account of the history and misfortunes of these interesting creatures may be found in the first “Lay of Sorrow.”
This valiant knight, besides having a heart of steel and nerves of iron, has been lately in the habit of carrying a brick in his eye.
The reader will probably be at a loss to discover the nature of this triumph, as no object was gained, and the donkey was obviously the victor; on this point, however, we are sorry to say we can offer no good explanation.
Much more acceptable to a true knight than “corn-land” which the Roman people were so foolish as to give to their daring champion, Horatius.
799
THE TWO BROTHERS
(1853)
There were two brothers at Twyford school,
And when they had left the place,
It was, “Will ye learn Greek and Latin?
Or will ye run me a race?
Or will ye go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace?”
And when they had left the place,
It was, “Will ye learn Greek and Latin?
Or will ye run me a race?
Or will ye go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace?”
“I'm too stupid for Greek and for Latin,
I'm too lazy by half for a race,
So I'll even go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace.”
I'm too lazy by half for a race,
So I'll even go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace.”
He has fitted together two joints of his rod,
And to them he has added another,
And then a great hook he took from his book,
And ran it right into his brother.
And to them he has added another,
And then a great hook he took from his book,
And ran it right into his brother.
Oh much is the noise that is made among boys
When playfully pelting a pig,
But a far greater pother was made by his brother
When flung from the top of the brigg.
When playfully pelting a pig,
But a far greater pother was made by his brother
When flung from the top of the brigg.
The fish hurried up by the dozens,
All ready and eager to bite,
For the lad that he flung was so tender and young,
It quite gave them an appetite.
All ready and eager to bite,
For the lad that he flung was so tender and young,
It quite gave them an appetite.
Said he, “Thus shall he wallop about
And the fish take him quite at their ease,
For me to annoy it was ever his joy,
Now I'll teach him the meaning of ‘Tees’!”
And the fish take him quite at their ease,
For me to annoy it was ever his joy,
Now I'll teach him the meaning of ‘Tees’!”
800
The wind to his ear brought a voice,
“My brother, you didn't had ought ter!
And what have I done that you think it such fun
To indulge in the pleasure of slaughter?
“My brother, you didn't had ought ter!
And what have I done that you think it such fun
To indulge in the pleasure of slaughter?
“A good nibble or bite is my chiefest delight,
When I'm merely expected to see,
But a bite from a fish is not quite what I wish,
When I get it performed upon me;
And just now here's a swarm of dace at my arm,
And a perch has got hold of my knee.
When I'm merely expected to see,
But a bite from a fish is not quite what I wish,
When I get it performed upon me;
And just now here's a swarm of dace at my arm,
And a perch has got hold of my knee.
“For water my thirst was not great at the first,
And of fish I have quite sufficien—”
“Oh fear not!” he cried, “for whatever betide,
We are both in the selfsame condition!
And of fish I have quite sufficien—”
“Oh fear not!” he cried, “for whatever betide,
We are both in the selfsame condition!
“I am sure that our state's very nearly alike
(Not considering the question of slaughter),
For I have my perch on the top of the bridge,
And you have your perch in the water.
(Not considering the question of slaughter),
For I have my perch on the top of the bridge,
And you have your perch in the water.
“I stick to my perch and your perch sticks to you,
We are really extremely alike;
I've a turn-pike up here, and I very much fear
You may soon have a turn with a pike.”
We are really extremely alike;
I've a turn-pike up here, and I very much fear
You may soon have a turn with a pike.”
“Oh grant but one wish! If I'm took by a fish
(For your bait is your brother, good man!)
Pull him up if you like, but I hope you will strike
As gently as ever you can.”
(For your bait is your brother, good man!)
Pull him up if you like, but I hope you will strike
As gently as ever you can.”
“If the fish be a trout, I'm afraid there's no doubt
I must strike him like lightning that's greased;
If the fish be a pike, I'll engage not to strike,
Till I've waited ten minutes at least.”
I must strike him like lightning that's greased;
801
Till I've waited ten minutes at least.”
“But in those ten minutes to desolate Fate
Your brother a victim may fall!”
“I'll reduce it to five, so perhaps you'll survive,
But the chance is exceedingly small.”
Your brother a victim may fall!”
“I'll reduce it to five, so perhaps you'll survive,
But the chance is exceedingly small.”
“Oh hard is your heart for to act such a part;
Is it iron, or granite, or steel?”
“Why, I really can't say—it is many a day
Since my heart was accustomed to feel.
Is it iron, or granite, or steel?”
“Why, I really can't say—it is many a day
Since my heart was accustomed to feel.
“'Twas my heart-cherished wish for to slay many fish
Each day did my malice grow worse,
For my heart didn't soften with doing it so often,
But rather, I should say, the reverse.”
Each day did my malice grow worse,
For my heart didn't soften with doing it so often,
But rather, I should say, the reverse.”
“Oh would I were back at Twyford school,
Learning lessons in fear of the birch!”
“Nay, brother!” he cried, “for whatever betide,
You are better off here with your perch!
Learning lessons in fear of the birch!”
“Nay, brother!” he cried, “for whatever betide,
You are better off here with your perch!
“I am sure you'll allow you are happier now,
With nothing to do but to play;
And this single line here, it is perfectly clear,
Is much better than thirty a day!
With nothing to do but to play;
And this single line here, it is perfectly clear,
Is much better than thirty a day!
“And as to the rod hanging over your head,
And apparently ready to fall,
That, you know, was the case, when you lived in that place,
So it need not be reckoned at all.
And apparently ready to fall,
That, you know, was the case, when you lived in that place,
So it need not be reckoned at all.
802
“Do you see that old trout with a turn-up-nose snout?
(Just to speak on a pleasanter theme,)
Observe, my dear brother, our love for each other—
He's the one I like best in the stream.
(Just to speak on a pleasanter theme,)
Observe, my dear brother, our love for each other—
He's the one I like best in the stream.
“To-morrow I mean to invite him to dine
(We shall all of us think it a treat);
If the day should be fine, I'll just drop him a line,
And we'll settle what time we're to meet.
(We shall all of us think it a treat);
If the day should be fine, I'll just drop him a line,
And we'll settle what time we're to meet.
“He hasn't been into society yet,
And his manners are not of the best,
So I think it quite fair that it should be my care,
To see that he's properly dressed.”
And his manners are not of the best,
So I think it quite fair that it should be my care,
To see that he's properly dressed.”
Many words brought the wind of “cruel” and “kind,”
And that “man suffers more than the brute”:
Each several word with patience he heard,
And answered with wisdom to boot.
And that “man suffers more than the brute”:
Each several word with patience he heard,
And answered with wisdom to boot.
“What? prettier swimming in the stream,
Than lying all snugly and flat?
Do but look at that dish filled with glittering fish,
Has Nature a picture like that?
Than lying all snugly and flat?
Do but look at that dish filled with glittering fish,
Has Nature a picture like that?
“What? a higher delight to be drawn from the sight
Of fish full of life and of glee?
What a noodle you are! 'tis delightfuller far
To kill them than let them go free!
Of fish full of life and of glee?
What a noodle you are! 'tis delightfuller far
To kill them than let them go free!
“I know there are people who prate by the hour
Of the beauty of earth, sky, and ocean;
Of the birds as they fly, of the fish darting by,
Rejoicing in Life and in Motion.
Of the beauty of earth, sky, and ocean;
Of the birds as they fly, of the fish darting by,
Rejoicing in Life and in Motion.
803
“As to any delight to be got from the sight,
It is all very well for a flat,
But I think it all gammon, for hooking a salmon
Is better than twenty of that!
It is all very well for a flat,
But I think it all gammon, for hooking a salmon
Is better than twenty of that!
“They say that a man of a right-thinking mind
Will love the dumb creatures he sees—
What's the use of his mind, if he's never inclined
To pull a fish out of the Tees?
Will love the dumb creatures he sees—
What's the use of his mind, if he's never inclined
To pull a fish out of the Tees?
“Take my friends and my home—as an outcast I'll roam:
Take the money I have in the Bank;
It is just what I wish, but deprive me of fish,
And my life would indeed be a blank!”
Take the money I have in the Bank;
It is just what I wish, but deprive me of fish,
And my life would indeed be a blank!”
Forth from the house his sister came,
Her brothers for to see,
But when she saw that sight of awe,
The tear stood in her e'e.
Her brothers for to see,
But when she saw that sight of awe,
The tear stood in her e'e.
“Oh what bait's that upon your hook,
My brother, tell to me?”
“It is but the fantailed pigeon,
He would not sing for me.”
My brother, tell to me?”
“It is but the fantailed pigeon,
He would not sing for me.”
“Whoe'er would expect a pigeon to sing,
A simpleton he must be!
But a pigeon-cote is a different thing
To the coat that there I see!”
A simpleton he must be!
But a pigeon-cote is a different thing
To the coat that there I see!”
“Oh what bait's that upon your hook,
Dear brother, tell to me?”
“It is my younger brother,” he cried,
“Oh woe and dole is me!
Dear brother, tell to me?”
“It is my younger brother,” he cried,
“Oh woe and dole is me!
804
“I's mighty wicked, that I is!
Or how could such things be?
Farewell, farewell, sweet sister,
I'm going o'er the sea.”
Or how could such things be?
Farewell, farewell, sweet sister,
I'm going o'er the sea.”
“And when will you come back again,
My brother, tell to me?”
“When chub is good for human food,
And that will never be!”
My brother, tell to me?”
“When chub is good for human food,
And that will never be!”
She turned herself right round about,
And her heart brake into three,
Said, “One of the two will be wet through and through,
And t'other'll be late for his tea!”
And her heart brake into three,
Said, “One of the two will be wet through and through,
And t'other'll be late for his tea!”
805
THE LADY OF THE LADLE
(1854)
The Youth at Eve had drunk his fill,Where stands the “Royal” on the Hill,
And long his mid-day stroll had made,
On the so-called “Marine Parade”—
(Meant, I presume, for Seamen brave,
Whose “march is on the Mountain wave”;
'Twere just the bathing-place for him
Who stays on land till he can swim—)
And he had strayed into the Town,
And paced each alley up and down,
Where still, so narrow grew the way,
The very houses seemed to say,
Nodding to friends across the Street,
“One struggle more and we shall meet.”
And he had scaled that wondrous stair
That soars from earth to upper air,
Where rich and poor alike must climb,
And walk the treadmill for a time.
That morning he had dressed with care,
And put Pomatum on his hair;
He was, the loungers all agreed,
A very heavy swell indeed:
Men thought him, as he swaggered by,
Some scion of nobility,
And never dreamed, so cold his look,
That he had loved—and loved a Cook.
Upon the beach he stood and sighed
Unheedful of the treacherous tide;
Thus sang he to the listening main,
And soothed his sorrow with the strain!
806
CORONACH
“She is gone by the Hilda,
She is lost unto Whitby,
And her name is Matilda,
Which my heart it was smit by;
Tho' I take the Goliah,
I learn to my sorrow
That ‘it won't,’ said the crier,
‘Be off till to-morrow.’
She is lost unto Whitby,
And her name is Matilda,
Which my heart it was smit by;
Tho' I take the Goliah,
I learn to my sorrow
That ‘it won't,’ said the crier,
‘Be off till to-morrow.’
“She called me her ‘Neddy,’
(Tho' there mayn't be much in it,)
And I should have been ready,
If she'd waited a minute;
I was following behind her
When, if you recollect, I
Merely ran back to find a
Gold pin for my neck-tie.
(Tho' there mayn't be much in it,)
And I should have been ready,
If she'd waited a minute;
I was following behind her
When, if you recollect, I
Merely ran back to find a
Gold pin for my neck-tie.
“Rich dresser of suet!
Prime hand at a sausage!
I have lost thee, I rue it,
And my fare for the passage!
Perhaps she thinks it funny,
Aboard of the Hilda,
But I've lost purse and money,
And thee, oh, my 'Tilda!”
Prime hand at a sausage!
I have lost thee, I rue it,
And my fare for the passage!
Perhaps she thinks it funny,
Aboard of the Hilda,
But I've lost purse and money,
And thee, oh, my 'Tilda!”
His pin of gold the youth undid
And in his waistcoat-pocket hid,
Then gently folded hand in hand,
And dropped asleep upon the sand.
And in his waistcoat-pocket hid,
Then gently folded hand in hand,
And dropped asleep upon the sand.
807
SHE'S ALL MY FANCY PAINTED HIM
[_]
[This affecting fragment was found in MS. among the papers of the well-known author of “Was it You or I?” a tragedy, and the two popular novels, “Sister and Son,” and “The Niece's Legacy, or the Grateful Grandfather.”]
She's all my fancy painted him
(I make no idle boast);
If he or you had lost a limb,
Which would have suffered most?
(I make no idle boast);
If he or you had lost a limb,
Which would have suffered most?
He said that you had been to her,
And seen me here before;
But, in another character,
She was the same of yore.
And seen me here before;
But, in another character,
She was the same of yore.
There was not one that spoke to us,
Of all that thronged the street:
So he sadly got into a 'bus,
And pattered with his feet.
Of all that thronged the street:
So he sadly got into a 'bus,
And pattered with his feet.
They sent him word I had not gone
(We know it to be true);
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
(We know it to be true);
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
They gave her one, they gave me two,
They gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.
They gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.
Involved in this affair,
808
Exactly as we were.
It seemed to me that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle, that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle, that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.
809
PHOTOGRAPHY EXTRAORDINARY
The Milk-and-Water School
Alas! she would not hear my prayer!
Yet it were rash to tear my hair;
Disfigured, I should be less fair.
Yet it were rash to tear my hair;
Disfigured, I should be less fair.
She was unwise, I may say blind;
Once she was lovingly inclined;
Some circumstance has changed her mind.
Once she was lovingly inclined;
Some circumstance has changed her mind.
The Strong-Minded or Matter-of-Fact School
Well! so my offer was no go!
She might do worse, I told her so;
She was a fool to answer “No.”
She might do worse, I told her so;
She was a fool to answer “No.”
However, things are as they stood;
Nor would I have her if I could,
For there are plenty more as good.
Nor would I have her if I could,
For there are plenty more as good.
The Spasmodic or German School
Firebrands and daggers! hope hath fled!
To atoms dash the doubly dead!
My brain is fire—my heart is lead!
To atoms dash the doubly dead!
My brain is fire—my heart is lead!
Her soul is flint, and what am I?
Scorch'd by her fierce, relentless eye,
Nothingness is my destiny!
Scorch'd by her fierce, relentless eye,
Nothingness is my destiny!
810
LAYS OF MYSTERY, IMAGINATION, AND HUMOUR
Number I
THE PALACE OF HUMBUG
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
And each damp thing that creeps and crawls
Went wobble-wobble on the walls.
And each damp thing that creeps and crawls
Went wobble-wobble on the walls.
Faint odours of departed cheese,
Blown on the dank, unwholesome breeze,
Awoke the never-ending sneeze.
Blown on the dank, unwholesome breeze,
Awoke the never-ending sneeze.
Strange pictures decked the arras drear,
Strange characters of woe and fear,
The humbugs of the social sphere.
Strange characters of woe and fear,
The humbugs of the social sphere.
One showed a vain and noisy prig,
That shouted empty words and big
At him that nodded in a wig.
That shouted empty words and big
At him that nodded in a wig.
And one, a dotard grim and gray,
Who wasteth childhood's happy day
In work more profitless than play.
Who wasteth childhood's happy day
In work more profitless than play.
Whose icy breast no pity warms,
Whose little victims sit in swarms,
And slowly sob on lower forms.
Whose little victims sit in swarms,
And slowly sob on lower forms.
811
And one, a green thyme-honoured Bank,
Where flowers are growing wild and rank,
Like weeds that fringe a poisoned tank.
Where flowers are growing wild and rank,
Like weeds that fringe a poisoned tank.
All birds of evil omen there
Flood with rich Notes the tainted air,
The witless wanderer to snare.
Flood with rich Notes the tainted air,
The witless wanderer to snare.
The fatal Notes neglected fall,
No creature heeds the treacherous call,
For all those goodly Strawn Baits Pall.
No creature heeds the treacherous call,
For all those goodly Strawn Baits Pall.
The wandering phantom broke and fled,
Straightway I saw within my head
A vision of a ghostly bed,
Straightway I saw within my head
A vision of a ghostly bed,
Where lay two worn decrepit men,
The fictions of a lawyer's pen,
Who never more might breathe again.
The fictions of a lawyer's pen,
Who never more might breathe again.
The serving-man of Richard Roe
Wept, inarticulate with woe:
She wept, that waited on John Doe.
Wept, inarticulate with woe:
She wept, that waited on John Doe.
“Oh rouse,” I urged, “the waning sense
With tales of tangled evidence,
Of suit, demurrer, and defence.”
With tales of tangled evidence,
Of suit, demurrer, and defence.”
“Vain,” she replied, “such mockeries:
For morbid fancies, such as these,
No suits can suit, no plea can please.”
For morbid fancies, such as these,
No suits can suit, no plea can please.”
812
And bending o'er that man of straw,
She cried in grief and sudden awe,
Not inappropriately, “Law!”
She cried in grief and sudden awe,
Not inappropriately, “Law!”
The well-remembered voice he knew,
He smiled, he faintly muttered “Sue!”
(Her very name was legal too.)
He smiled, he faintly muttered “Sue!”
(Her very name was legal too.)
The night was fled, the dawn was nigh:
A hurricane went raving by,
And swept the Vision from mine eye.
A hurricane went raving by,
And swept the Vision from mine eye.
Vanished that dim and ghostly bed,
(The hangings, tape; the tape was red:)
'Tis o'er, and Doe and Roe are dead!
(The hangings, tape; the tape was red:)
'Tis o'er, and Doe and Roe are dead!
Oh, yet my spirit inly crawls,
What time it shudderingly recalls
That horrid dream of marble halls!
What time it shudderingly recalls
That horrid dream of marble halls!
Oxford, 1855.
813
THE MOCK TURTLE'S SONG
Beneath the waters of the sea
Are lobsters thick as thick can be—
They love to dance with you and me,
My own, my gentle Salmon!
Are lobsters thick as thick can be—
They love to dance with you and me,
My own, my gentle Salmon!
Chorus
Salmon, come up! Salmon, go down!Salmon, come twist your tail around!
Of all the fishes of the sea
There's none so good as Salmon!
UPON THE LONELY MOOR
(1856)
[_]
[It is always interesting to ascertain the sources from which our great poets obtained their ideas: this motive has dictated the publication of the following: painful as its appearance must be to the admirers of Wordsworth and his poem of “Resolution and Independence.”]
I met an aged, aged man
Upon the lonely moor:
I knew I was a gentleman,
And he was but a boor.
So I stopped and roughly questioned him,
“Come, tell me how you live!”
But his words impressed my ear no more
Than if it were a sieve.
Upon the lonely moor:
I knew I was a gentleman,
And he was but a boor.
So I stopped and roughly questioned him,
“Come, tell me how you live!”
But his words impressed my ear no more
Than if it were a sieve.
814
He said, “I look for soap-bubbles,
That lie among the wheat,
And bake them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,” he said,
“Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread—
A trifle, if you please.”
That lie among the wheat,
And bake them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,” he said,
“Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread—
A trifle, if you please.”
But I was thinking of a way
To multiply by ten,
And always, in the answer, get
The question back again.
I did not hear a word he said,
But kicked that old man calm,
And said, “Come, tell me how you live!”
And pinched him in the arm.
To multiply by ten,
And always, in the answer, get
The question back again.
I did not hear a word he said,
But kicked that old man calm,
And said, “Come, tell me how you live!”
And pinched him in the arm.
His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, “I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze.
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar Oil;
But fourpence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.”
He said, “I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze.
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar Oil;
But fourpence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.”
But I was thinking of a plan
To paint one's gaiters green,
So much the colour of the grass
That they could ne'er be seen.
I gave his ear a sudden box,
And questioned him again,
And tweaked his grey and reverend locks,
And put him into pain.
To paint one's gaiters green,
So much the colour of the grass
That they could ne'er be seen.
I gave his ear a sudden box,
And questioned him again,
And tweaked his grey and reverend locks,
And put him into pain.
815
He said, “I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold,
Or coin of silver-mine,
But for a copper-halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold,
Or coin of silver-mine,
But for a copper-halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.
“I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the flowery knolls
For wheels of hansom cabs.
And that's the way” (he gave a wink)
“I get my living here,
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's health in beer.”
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the flowery knolls
For wheels of hansom cabs.
And that's the way” (he gave a wink)
“I get my living here,
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's health in beer.”
I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I duly thanked him, ere I went,
For all his stories queer,
But chiefly for his kind intent
To drink my health in beer.
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I duly thanked him, ere I went,
For all his stories queer,
But chiefly for his kind intent
To drink my health in beer.
And now if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe;
Or if a statement I aver
Of which I am not sure,
I think of that strange wanderer
Upon the lonely moor.
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe;
Or if a statement I aver
Of which I am not sure,
I think of that strange wanderer
Upon the lonely moor.
816
MISS JONES
[_]
(This frolicsome verse was written for a medley of twenty-two tunes that ranged from “The Captain and His Whiskers” to “Rule Britannia.”)
Tho I specs it will work upon your feelings very strong,
For the agonising moans of Miss Arabella Jones
Were warranted to melt the hearts of any paving stones.
Simon Smith was tall and slim, and she doted upon him,
But he always called her Miss Jones—he never got so far,
As to use her Christian name—it was too familiar.
When she called him “Simon dear” he pretended not to hear,
And she told her sister Susan he behaved extremely queer,
Who said, “Very right! very right! Shews his true affection.
If you'd prove your Simon's love follow my direction.
I'd certainly advise you just to write a simple letter,
And to tell him that the cold he kindly asked about is better.
And say that by the tanyard you will wait in loving hope,
At nine o'clock this evening if he's willing to elope
With his faithful Arabella.”
So she wrote it, & signed it, & sealed it, & sent it, & dressed herself out in her holiday things.
With bracelets & brooches, & earrings, & necklace, a watch, & an eyeglass, & diamond rings,
For man is a creature weak and impressible, thinks such a deal of appearance, my dear.
So she waited for her Simon beside the tanyard gate, regardless of the pieman, who hinted it was late.
817
And kindly brought a light old coat to wrap around her.
She felt her cold was getting worse,
Yet still she fondly whispered, “Oh, take your time, my Simon, although I've waited long.
I do not fear my Simon dear will fail to come at last,
Although I know that long ago the time I named is past.
My Simon! My Simon! Oh, charming man! Oh, charming man!
Dear Simon Smith, sweet Simon Smith.”
Oh, there goes the church-clock, the town-clock, the station-clock and there go the other clocks, they are all striking twelve!
Oh, Simon, it is getting late, it's very dull to sit and wait.
And really I'm in such a state, I hope you'll come at any rate, quite early in the morning, quite early in the morning.
Then with prancing bays & yellow chaise, we'll away to Gretna Green.
For when I am with my Simon Smith—oh, that common name! Oh that vulgar name!
I shall never rest happy till he's changed that name, but when he has married me, maybe he'll love me to that degree, that he'll grant me my prayer
And will call himself “Clare”—
So she talked all alone, as she sat upon a stone,
Still hoping he would come and find her, and she started most unkimmon, when instead of darling “Simmon” 'twas a strange man that stood behind her,
Who civilly observed “Good evening, M'am,
I really am surprised to see that you're out here alone, for you must own from thieves you're not secure.
A watch, I see. Pray lend it me (I hope the gold is pure).
818
The policeman off from his beat has gone.
In the kitchen—” “Oh, you desperate villain! Oh, you treacherous thief!”
And these were the words of her anger and grief.
“When first to Simon Smith I gave my hand I never could have thought he would have acted half so mean as this,
And where's the new police? Oh, Simon, Simon! how could you treat your love so ill?”
They sit & chatter, they chatter with the cook, the guardians, so they're called, of public peace.
Through the tanyard was heard the dismal sound, “How on earth is it policemen never, never, never, can be found?”
| The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll | |