Alice in Verse: The Lost Rhymes of Wonderland Read Free Page A

more!
    But if less you require from the coffers of yore,
    Then perhaps you should travel to some other shore!
    But don’t run—not just yet—for you cannot ignore
    That you haven’t a clue what the wood holds in store:
    All those dark little nooks that you bypassed before
    Still await your impending and final encore!
    It’s safer back here from the things that you fear!
    Like the raven, the rook—or the crow, if you please,
    With his dark feathered wings that expand with such ease;
    With his talons so sharp and his brilliant black beak
    In contrariwise pose with the sound of his shriek.
    From those things that you fear, it is much safer here!
    Now we’ve settled the battle, and evened the score,
    And divided the rattle in parts numb’ring four.
    If you like, we can whittle them down furthermore:
    Ten shillings, six pence—but not one penny more!
    So the tale we regale with shall be evermore
    But a fable of vengeance that some may deplore,
    Whilst others, most wicked of heart, may adore:
    The return of the two who once dined on the shore…’





T HE W ALRUS & T HE C ARPENTER H EAD B ACK
    The moon was shining on the sea,
         So to eclipse the sun:
    She did her very best to make
         The billows roughly run—
    And this was odd, because, of course,
         The day had just begun.
    The sun was sulking in the gloom
         That swallowed up his light,
    And set the skies he’d painted blue
         In shades of blackest night—
    ‘It’s very rude of her,’ he cried,
         ‘To do this out of spite!’
    The sands were dry as dry could be,
         The sea was wet as wet.
    The air was foul and dank and thick
         With bittersweet regret—
    The sort that weighs the heavy heart,
         And labours to forget.
    The Walrus and the Carpenter
         Were heading back the way
    They’d come from but an hour past,
         When night was plainly day—
    Before the clouds had settled in,
         And filled the skies with grey.
    ‘I did not think it quite so dark
         When first we headed out!
    Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
         ‘They’ve rearranged this route?’
    ‘No question,’ said the Carpenter,
         His heart yet filled with doubt.
    ‘O come, my friend, let’s rest a while,’
         The Walrus did implore.
    ‘A little break to still the wake
         Along this briny shore:
    We cannot take another step
         Beyond another four!’
    The weary Builder gave a sigh,
         But not a word he said:
    Into the dark he trudged along,
         Determined now for bed—
    His belly thick with peppered swag,
         And vinegar and bread.
    But slower still their footsteps fell
         Into the sinking sand,
    Which rose—and swiftly—to their knees
         In striking countermand—
    Whilst from the frothy breaking waves
          They came now, hand-in-hand.
    Four dozen Oysters followed fast,
         And yet four hundred more;
    And thick and quick, their bodies slick,
         They gathered on the shore—
    All circling round and closing in,
         More eager than before.

    ‘Dear Oysters, come and rally round!’
         The Walrus did beseech.
    ‘It seems we’ve dipped into a rut
         Along this brackish beach:
    It would be grand to lend hand—
         If four would give to each.’
    The eldest Oyster gazed at him,
         And raised a clever brow.
    The eldest Oyster nodded then,
         For this he did allow:
    To lend a hand, it would be grand—
         But which to whom and how?
    ‘A coil of thread,’ the eldest said,
         ‘Is what we do require
    To hoist them up and drag them out
         From ’neath this boggy mire—
    Some kindling, too, and flint as well,
         To build a warming fire.’
    ‘But not too hot!’ the Walrus cried,
         As flames licked at his feet—
    And yet the pyre burned high and bright,
         And ever-so replete—
    Whilst