“It was so kind of you to come! 
  And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
  “Cut us another slice. 
I wish you were not quite so deaf—­
  I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
  “To play them such a trick. 
After we’ve brought them out so far,
  And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
  “The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said: 
  “I deeply sympathize.” 
With sobs and tears he sorted out
  Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
  Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
  “You’ve had a pleasant run! 
Shall we be trotting home again?”
  But answer came there none—­
And this was scarcely odd, because
  They’d eaten every one.
                       Lewis Carroll.

A LOBSTER QUADRILLE

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting
       to a snail,
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and
       he’s treading on my tail. 
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all
       advance! 
They are waiting on the shingle—­will you come
       and join the dance? 
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will
       you join the dance? 
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t
      you join the dance?

“You can really have no notion how delightful
      it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the
      lobsters, out to sea!”
But the snail replied, “Too far, too far!” and
      gave a look askance—­
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he
      would not join the dance. 
Would not, could not, would not, could not,
      would not join the dance. 
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could
      not join the dance.

“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly
      friend replied,
“There is another shore, you know, upon the
      other side. 
The further off from England the nearer is to
      France—­
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and
      join the dance. 
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will
      you join the dance? 
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t
      you join the dance?”
                                 Lewis Carroll.

DANDELION

He is a roguish little elf,
  A gay audacious fellow,
Who tramps about in doublet green
  And skirt of brightest yellow;
In ev’ry field, by ev’ry road,
  He peeps among the grasses,
And shows his sunny little face
  To ev’ry one that passes.

Within the churchyard he is seen,
  Beside the headstones peeping,
And shining like a golden star
  O’er some still form there sleeping;
Beside the house door oft he springs,
  In all his wanton straying,
And children shout in laughing glee
  To find him in their playing.