But four young Oysters hurried up,

All eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat

And this was odd, because, you know,

They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more-
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:

And all the little Oysters stood

And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:

Of shoes--and ships-and sealing wax-
Of cabbages-and kings-

And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"

"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need:

Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed-

Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue.

"After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!"

"The night is fine," the Walrus said. "Do you admire the view?

"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 noneAnd this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one.

Lewis Carroll

"HE THOUGHT HE SAW”

He thought he saw a Buffalo
Upon the chimney-piece:

He looked again, and found it was
His Sister's Husband's Niece.
"Unless you leave this house," he said,
"I'll send for the Police!"

He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
"The one thing I regret," he said,
"Is that it cannot speak!"

He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
Descending from the 'bus:

He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.

"If this should stay to dine," he said,
"There won't be much for us!"

He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a coffee-mill:

He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pill.

"Were I to swallow this," he said,
"I should be very ill!"

He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
That stood beside his bed:

He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.

"Poor thing," he said, "poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!"

He thought he saw an Albatross
That fluttered round the lamp:
He looked again, and found it was
A Penny-Postage-Stamp.

"You'd best be getting home," he said:

"The nights are very damp!"

Lewis Carroll

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG

Good people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,-
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,-
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes:
The naked every day he clad,-
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighboring streets
The wondering neighbors ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye:

And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied:-

The man recovered of the bite,

The dog it was that died.

Oliver Goldsmith

OLD GRIMES

Old Grimes is dead; that good old man

We never shall see more:

He used to wear a long black coat,
All buttoned down before.

His heart was open as the day,

His feelings all were true;

His hair was some inclined to gray-
He wore it in a queue.

Whene'er he heard the voice of pain,
His breast with pity burned;
The large, round head upon his cane
From ivory was turned.