"THE LAND OF WONDER-WANDER" THE JUMBLIES Edward Lear THEY went to sea in a sieve, they did; 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 live : Their heads are green, and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve. William Brighty Kands TOPSY-TURVY WORLD IF the butterfly courted the bee, If the buttercups ate the cows, 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! DRESSING THE DOLL THIS is the way we dress the Doll :You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll, If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook, But this is the way we dress the Doll. Chorus Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll, First, you observe, her little chemise, Chorus Now these are the bodies: she has two, Then, with black at the border, jacket Is to show you her night attire, This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in ! It's not the one that's made for her wedding: That is special, a new design, So you see the way we dress the Doll: If you gave her a crook with pastoral hook, Chorus Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll, I SAW A NEW WORLD I SAW a new world in my dream, 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 ; I long'd to hear the Time-Clock strike I long'd to say Neither, or even Never. I long'd to mend, I long'd to make; At last I heard the Time-Clock boom, And I heard the Baby crow and cry. And I thought to myself, How nice it is And none of the people are made alike; Where Love wants this, and Pain wants that, Where all our hearts want Tit for Tat In a world that nobody understands, call Upon Him who sees it and knows us all! When at length he sat up and was able to speak, His sad story he offer'd to tell; And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!" And excitedly tingled his bell. There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream, Scarcely even a howl or a groan, As the man they call'd "Ho!" told his story of woe In an antediluvian tone. 'My father and mother were honest, though poor "Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste. 'If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark We have hardly a minute to waste!” "Iskip forty years," said the Baker, in tears, "And proceed without further remark To the day when you took me aboard of your ship To help you in hunting the Snark. "A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was nam'd) Remark'd, when I bade him farewell—” "Oh, skip your dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaim'd, As he angrily tingled his bell. "He remark'd to me then," said that mildest of men, "If your Snark be a Snark, that is right: Fetch it home by all means serve it with greens, you may And it's handy for striking a light. ("That's exactly the method,” the Bellman 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 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 that before!" "We have had 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 dark In a dreamy, delirious fight: I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes, And I use it for striking a light: "But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day, OF ALICE IN WONDERLAND Children three that nestle near, Long has paled that sunny sky: Still she haunts me, phantom-wise, Children yet, the tale to hear, In a Wonderland they lie, Ever drifting down the stream, |