Yet we never can think we were rash or

wrong, While round in our sieve we spin.”

a

a

THE JUMBLIES
THEY went to sea in a sieve, they did ;

In a sieve they went to sea ;
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,

In a sieve they went to sea.
And when the sieve turn'd round and

round, And every one cried, “You 'll be drown'd!” They call'd aloud, “Our sieve ain't big : But we don't care a button ; we don't care

a fig : In a sieve we 'll go to sea !” Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies

And all night long they sail'd away ;

And, when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,

In the shade of the mountains brown, “O Timballoo ! how happy we are When we live in a sieve and a crockery

jar! And all night long, in the moonlight pale, We sail away with a pea-green sail

In the shade of the mountains brown.”

a

live :

Their heads are green, and their hands

are blue ; And they went to sea in a sieve.

And in twenty years they all came back, –

In twenty years or more ; And every one said, “How tall they've

grown! For they've been to the Lakes, and the Tor

rible Zone, And the hills of the Chankly Bore." And they drank their health, and gave

them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast ;
And every one said, “If we only live,
We, too, will go to sea in a sieve,
To the hills of the Chankly Bore.”
Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies

TOPSY-TURVY WORLD

IF the butterfly courted the bee,

And the owl the porcupine ;
If churches were built in the sea,

And three times one was nine ;
If the pony rode his master,

If the buttercups ate the cows, If the cats had the dire disaster

To be worried, sir, by the mouse ; If mamma, sir, sold the baby

To a gypsy for half a crown ; If a gentleman, sir, was a lady,

The world would be Upside-down ! If any or all of these wonders

Should ever come about,
I should not consider them blunders,
For I should be Inside-out!

Chorus
Ba-ba, black wool,

Have you any sheep ?
Yes, sir, a packfull,

Creep, mouse, creep !
Four-and-twenty little maids

Hanging out the pie,
Out jump'd the honey-pot,

Guy Fawkes, Guy !
Cross latch, cross latch,

Sit and spin the fire ;
When the pie was open'd,

The bird was on the brier !

Bribing you

With kisses For a few

Farthing blisses ; Wide awake,

As you hear, “Mercy's sake,

Quiet, dear!"

New shoes,

New frock, Vague views

Of what 's o'clock,

When it's time

To go to bed, And scorn sublime

For what it said ;

Folded hands,

Saying prayers, Understands

Not, nor cares;

Thinks it odd,

Smiles away ; Yet may God

Hear her pray! Bedgown white,

Kiss Dolly ; Goodnight!

That's Polly.

Torn books,

Spoilt toys ; Arch looks,

Unlike a boy's ;

Little rages,

Obvious arts ; (Three her age is,)

Cakes, tarts ;

Fast asleep,

As you see ; Heaven keep

My girl for me!

I SAW A NEW WORLD

I saw a new world in my dream,
Where all the folks alike did seem :
There was no Child, there was no Mother,
There was no Change, there was no Other.
For everything was Same, the Same ;
There was no praise, there was no blame ;
There was neither Need nor Help for it;
There was nothing fitting or unfit.

:

Nobody laugh’d, nobody wept ;
None grew weary, so none slept ;
There was nobody born, and nobody wed;

; This world was a world of the living-dead.

I long'd to hear the Time-Clock strike
In the world where people were all alike ;
I hated Same, I hated Forever ;
I long'd to say Neither, or even Never.

Chorus Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll, But do not crumple and mess the Doll ! This is the way we dress the Doll. First, you observe, her little chemise, As white as milk, with ruches of silk; And the little drawers that cover her knees, As she sits or stands, with golden bands, And lace in beautiful filagrees.

Chorus Now these are the bodies : she has two, One of pink, with rouches of blue, And sweet white lace ; be careful, do ! And one of green, with buttons of sheen, Buttons and

bands of gold, I mean, With lace on the border in lovely order, The most expensive we can afford her !

Chorus Then, with black at the border, jacket And this — and this — she will not lack it ; Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course, And shoes and stockings we shall enforce, With a proper bodice, in the proper place, (Stays that lace have had their days And made their martyrs); likewise garters, All entire. But our desire Is to show you her night attire, At least a part of it. Pray admire This sweet white thing that she goes to

bed in ! It's not the one that's made for her wed

ding : That is special, a new design, Made with a charm and a countersign, Three times three and nine times nine : These are only her usual clothes. Look, there's a wardrobe ! gracious knows It 's pretty enough, as far as it goes ! So you see the way we dress the Doll : You might make her a shepherdess, the

Doll, If you gave her a crook with pastoral hook, With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook, And all that, out of the poetry-book.

I long'd to mend, I long'd to make ;
I long’d to give, I long'd to take ;
I long'd for a change, whatever came after,
I long'd for crying, I long'd for laughter.
At last I heard the Time-Clock boom,
And woke from my dream in my little room ;
With a smile on her lips my Mother was

nigh,
And I heard the Baby crow and cry.
And I thought to myself, How nice it is
For me to live in a world like this,
Where things can happen, and clocks can

strike, And none of the people are made alike ;

(“That's exactly the method," the Bell

man bold In a hasty parenthesis cried, “ That's exactly the way I have always

been told That the capture of Snarks should be

tried !")

“But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,

In a moment (of this I am sure), I shall softly and suddenly vanish away

And the notion I cannot endure !”

OF ALICE IN WONDERLAND

A BOAT, beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July ;

Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear ;

“. But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the

day, If your Snark be a Boojum! For then You will softly and suddenly vanish away,

And never be met with again !' “ It is this, it is this that oppresses my

soul, When I think of my uncle's last words : And

my heart is like nothing so much as a

bowl Brimming over with quivering curds ! “ It is this, it is this “We have had

that before !” The Bellman indignantly said. And the Baker replied,

** Let me say it once more. It is this, it is this that I dread ! “I engage with the Snark

every night after darkIn a dreamy, delirious fight : I serve it with greens in those shadowy

scenes, And I use it for striking a light:

Long has paled that sunny sky :
Echoes fade and memories die,
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantom-wise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die :
Ever drifting down the stream,
Lingering in the golden gleam, -
Life, what is it but a dream ?