From Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
#EnglishWriters #Victorian Adventures Alice's Wonderland in
There are certain things —a spider… The income—tax, gout, an umbrella… That I hate, but the thing that I… Is a thing they call the SEA. Pour some salt water over the floo…
Sent to a friend who had complaine… him when he came, but didn’t seem… And cannot pleasures, while they l… Be actual unless, when past, They leave us shuddering and aghas…
Little Birds are dining Warily and well, Hid in mossy cell: Hid, I say, by waiters Gorgeous in their gaiters —
From his shoulder Hiawatha Took the camera of rosewood, Made of sliding, folding rosewood; Neatly put it all together. In its case it lay compactly,
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs choked his voice. ‘Same as if he ha...
I love the stillness of the wood: I love the music of the rill: I love to couch in pensive mood Upon some silent hill. Scarce heard, beneath you arching…
With saddest music all day long She soothed her secret sorrow: At night she sighed “I fear 'twas… Such cheerful words to borrow. Dearest, a sweeter, sadder song
“Will you walk a little faster?” s… “There’s a porpoise close behind u… tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and t… They are waiting on the shingle—wi…
'Haddock’s Eyes’ or 'The Aged Ag… 'Ways and Means’ or 'A—Sitting O… I’ll tell thee everything I can; There’s little to relate. I saw an aged, aged man,
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
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other tw...
The ladye she stood at her lattice… Wi’ her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The passers in the street, 'There’s one that standeth at the…
The Mad Gardener’s Song He thought he saw an Elephant, That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife.
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 “S…
In stature the Manlet was dwarfis… No burly, big Blunderbore he; And he wearily gazed on the crawfi… His Wifelet had dressed for his t… ‘Now reach me, sweet Atom, my gun…