Haste, oh, haste, to take and taste
[20] The dainties waiting, ting, ting, ting!
Honey-dew is stored———
The Three Badgers
There be three Badgers on a mossy stone,
Beside a dark and covered way:
Each dreams himself a monarch on his throne,
And so they stay and stay –
Though their old Father languishes alone,
They stay, and stay, and stay.
There be three Herrings loitering around,
Longing to share that mossy seat:
Each Herring tries to sing what she has found
[10] That makes Life seem so sweet.
Thus, with a grating and uncertain sound,
They bleat, and bleat, and bleat.
The Mother-Herring, on the salt sea-wave,
Sought vainly for her absent ones:
The Father-Badger, writhing in a cave,
Shrieked out “Return, my sons!
You shall have buns,” he shrieked, “if you’ll behave!
Yea, buns, and buns, and buns!”
“I fear,” said she, “your sons have gone astray?
[20] My daughters left me while I slept.”
“Yes’m,” the Badger said: “it’s as you say.
“They should be better kept.”
Thus the poor parents talked the time away,
And wept, and wept, and wept.
Oh, dear beyond our dearest dreams,
Fairer than all that fairest seems!
To feast the rosy hours away,
To revel in a roundelay!
How blest would be
[30] A life so free –
Ipwergis-Pudding to consume,
And drink the subtle Azzigoom!
And if, in other days and hours,
Mid other fluffs and other flowers,
The choice were given me how to dine –
“Name what thou wilt: it shall be thine!”
Oh, then I see
The life for me –
Ipwergis-Pudding to consume,
[40] And drink the subtle Azzigoom!
The Badgers did not care to talk to Fish:
They did not dote on Herrings’ songs:
They never had experienced the dish
To which that name belongs:
“And oh, to pinch their tails,” (this was their wish,)
“With tongs, yea, tongs, and tongs!”
“And are not these the Fish,” the Eldest sighed,
“Whose Mother dwells beneath the foam?”
“They are the Fish!” the Second one replied.
[50] “And they have left their home!”
“Oh wicked Fish,” the Youngest Badger cried,
“To roam, yea, roam, and roam!”
Gently the Badgers trotted to the shore——
The sandy shore that fringed the bay:
Each in his mouth a living Herring bore –
Those aged ones waxed gay:
Clear rang their voices through the ocean’s roar,
“Hooray, hooray, hooray!”
Light Come, Light Go
He steps so lightly to the land,
All in his manly pride:
He kissed her cheek, he pressed her hand,
Yet still she glanced aside.
“Too gay he seems,” she darkly dreams,
“Too gallant and too gay
To think of me – poor simple me –
When he is far away!”
“I bring my Love this goodly pearl
[10] Across the seas,” he said:
“A gem to deck the dearest girl
That ever sailor wed!”
She clasps it tight: her eyes are bright:
Her throbbing heart would say
“He thought of me – he thought of me –
When he was far away!”
The ship has sailed into the West:
Her ocean-bird is flown.
A dull dead pain is in her breast,
[20] And she is weak and lone:
Yet there’s a smile upon her face,
A smile that seems to say
“He’ll think of me – he’ll think of me –
When he is far away!
“Though waters wide between us glide,
Our lives are warm and near:
No distance parts two faithful hearts –
Two hearts that love so dear:
And I will trust my sailor-lad,
[30] For ever and a day,
To think of me – to think of me –
When he is far away!”
Sylvie and Bruno Concluded
[“Dreams, that elude the Maker’s frenzied grasp”]
Dreams, that elude the Maker’s frenzied grasp –
Hands, stark and still, on a dead Mother’s breast,
Which nevermore shall render clasp for clasp,
Or deftly soothe a weeping Child to rest –
In suchlike forms me listeth to portray
My Tale, here ended. Thou delicious Fay –
The guardian of a Sprite that lives to tease thee –
Loving in earnest, chiding but in play
The merry mocking Bruno! Who, that sees thee,
[10] Can fail to love thee, Darling, even as I? –
My sweetest Sylvie, we must say “Good-bye!”
[“King Fisher courted Lady Bird”]
King Fisher courted Lady Bird –
Sing Beans, sing Bones, sing Butterflies!
“Find me my match,” he said,
“With such a noble head –
With such a beard, as white as curd –
With such expressive eyes!”
“Yet pins have heads,” said Lady Bird –
Sing Prunes, sing Prawns, sing Primrose-Hill!
“And, where you stick them in,
[10] They stay, and thus a pin
Is very much to be preferred
To one that’s never still!”
“Oysters have beards,” said Lady Bird –
Sing Flies, sing Frogs, sing Fiddle-strings!
“I love them, for I know
They never chatter so:
They would not say one single word –
Not if you crowned them Kings!”
“Needles have eyes,” said Lady Bird –
[20] Sing Cats, sing Corks, sing Cowslip-tea!
“And they are sharp – just what
Your Majesty is not:
So get you gone – ’tis too absurd
To come a-courting me!”
[Streaks of Dawn]
Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee;
Take, I give it willingly;
For, invisible to thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me!
Matilda Jane
Matilda Jane, you never look
At any toy or picture-book:
I show you pretty things in vain –
You must be blind, Matilda Jane!
I ask you riddles, tell you tales,
But all our conversation fails:
You never answer me again –
I fear you’re dumb, Matilda Jane!
Matilda, darling, when I call,
[10] You never seem to hear at all:
I shout with all my might and main –
But you’re so deaf, Matilda Jane!
Matilda Jane, you needn’t mind:
For, though you’re deaf, and dumb, and blind,
There’s some one loves you, it is plain –
And that is me, Matilda Jane!
The Revellers’ Song
There’s him, an’ yo’, an’ me,
Roarin’ laddies!
We loves a bit o’ spree,
Roarin’ laddies we,
Roarin’ laddies
Roarin’ laddies!
What Tottles Meant
“One thousand pounds per annuum
Is not so bad a figure, come!”
Cried Tott
les. “And I tell you, flat,
A man may marry well on that!
To say ‘the Husband needs the Wife’
Is not the way to represent it.
The crowning joy of Woman’s life
Is Man!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
The blissful Honey-moon is past:
[10] The Pair have settled down at last:
Mamma-in-law their home will share,
And make their happiness her care.
“Your income is an ample one:
Go it, my children!” (And they went it).
“I rayther think this kind of fun
Won’t last!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
They took a little country-box –
A box at Covent Garden also:
They lived a life of double-knocks,
[20] Acquaintances began to call so:
Their London house was much the same
(It took three hundred, clear, to rent it):
“Life is a very jolly game!”
Cried happy Tottles (and he meant it).
“Contented with a frugal lot”
(He always used that phrase at Gunter’s),
He bought a handy little yacht –
A dozen serviceable hunters –
The fishing of a Highland Loch –
[30] A sailing-boat to circumvent it –
“The sounding of that Gaelic ‘och’
Beats me!” said Tottles (and he meant it).
But oh, the worst of human ills
(Poor Tottles found) are “little bills”!
And, with no balance in the Bank,
What wonder that his spirits sank?
Still, as the money flowed away,
He wondered how on earth she spent it.
“You cost me twenty pounds a day,
[40] At least!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
She sighed. “Those Drawing Rooms, you know!
I really never thought about it:
Mamma declared we ought to go –
We should be Nobodies without it.
That diamond-circlet for my brow –
I quite believed that she had sent it,
Until the Bill came in just now –”
“Viper!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
Poor Mrs. T. could bear no more,
[50] But fainted flat upon the floor.
Mamma-in-law, with anguish wild,
Seeks, all in vain, to rouse her child.
“Quick! Take this box of smelling-salts!
Don’t scold her, James, or you’ll repent it,
She’s a dear girl, with all her faults——”
“She is!” groaned Tottles (and he meant it).
“I was a donkey,” Tottles cried,
“To choose your daughter for my bride!
’Twas you that bid us cut a dash!
[60] ’Tis you have brought us to this smash!
You don’t suggest one single thing
That can in any way prevent it –”
“Then what’s the use of arguing?”
“Shut up!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
“And, now the mischief’s done, perhaps
You’ll kindly go and pack your traps?
Since two (your daughter and your son)
Are Company, but three are none.
A course of saving we’ll begin:
[70] When change is needed, I’ll invent it:
Don’t think to put your finger in
This pie!” cried Tottles (and he meant it).
See now this couple settled down
In quiet lodgings, out of town:
Submissively the tearful wife
Accepts a plain and humble life:
Yet begs one boon on bended knee:
“My ducky-darling, don’t resent it!
Mamma might come for two or three –”
[80] “NEVER!” yelled Tottles. And he meant it.
[The Earl’s Poem]
“We doubt not that, for one so true,
There must be other, nobler work to do,
Than when he fought at Waterloo,
And Victor he must ever be!”
[“In stature the Manlet was dwarfish”]
In stature the Manlet was dwarfish –
No burly big Blunderbore he:
And he wearily gazed on the crawfish
His Wifelet had dressed for his tea.
“Now reach me, sweet Atom, my gunlet,
And hurl the old shoelet for luck:
Let me hie to the bank of the runlet,
And shoot thee a Duck!”
She has reached him his minikin gunlet:
[10] She has hurled the old shoelet for luck:
She is busily baking a bunlet,
To welcome him home with his Duck.
On he speeds, never wasting a wordlet,
Though thoughtlets cling, closely as wax,
To the spot where the beautiful birdlet
So quietly quacks.
Where the Lobsterlet lurks, and the Crablet
So slowly and sleepily crawls:
Where the Dolphin’s at home, and the Dablet
[20] Pays long ceremonious calls:
Where the Grublet is sought by the Froglet:
Where the Frog is pursued by the Duck:
Where the Ducklet is chased by the Doglet –
So runs the world’s luck!
He has loaded with bullet and powder:
His footfall is noiseless as air:
But the Voices grow louder and louder,
And bellow, and bluster, and blare.
They bristle before him and after,
[30] They flutter above and below,
Shrill shriekings of lubberly laughter,
Weird wailings of woe!
They echo without him, within him:
They thrill through his whiskers and beard:
Like a teetotum seeming to spin him,
With sneers never hitherto sneered.
“Avengement,” they cry, “on our Foelet!
Let the Manikin weep for our wrongs!
Let us drench him, from toplet to toelet,
[40] With Nursery-Songs!
“He shall muse upon ‘Hey! Diddle! Diddle!’
On the Cow that surmounted the Moon:
He shall rave of the Cat and the Fiddle,
And the Dish that eloped with the Spoon:
And his soul shall be sad for the Spider,
When Miss Muffet was sipping her whey,
That so tenderly sat down beside her,
And scared her away!
“The music of Midsummer-madness
[50] Shall sting him with many a bite,
Till, in rapture of rollicking sadness,
He shall groan with a gloomy delight:
He shall swathe him, like mists of the morning,
In platitudes luscious and limp,
Such as deck, with a deathless adorning,
The Song of the Shrimp!
“When the Ducklet’s dark doom is decided,
We will trundle him home in a trice:
And the banquet, so plainly provided,
[60] Shall round into rose-buds and rice:
In a blaze of pragmatic invention
He shall wrestle with Fate, and shall reign:
But he has not a friend fit to mention,
So hit him again!”
He has shot it, the delicate darling!
And the Voices have ceased from their strife:
Not a whisper of sneering or snarling,
As he carries it home to his wife:
Then, cheerily champing the bunlet
[70] His spouse was so skilful to bake,
He hies him once more to the runlet,
To fetch her the Drake!
A Fairy-Duet
“Say, what is the spell, when her fledgelings are cheeping,
That lures the bird home to her nest?
&nb
sp; Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping,
To cuddle and croon it to rest?
What’s the magic that charms the glad babe in her arms,
Till it cooes with the voice of the dove?”
“ ’Tis a secret, and so let us whisper it low –
And the name of the secret is Love!”
“For I think it is Love,
[10] For I feel it is Love,
For I’m sure it is nothing but Love!”
“Say, whence is the voice that, when anger is burning,
Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease?
That stirs the vexed soul with an aching – a yearning
For the brotherly hand-grip of peace?
Whence the music that fills all our being – that thrills
Around us, beneath, and above?”
“ ’Tis a secret: none knows how it comes, how it goes:
But the name of the secret is Love!”
[20] “For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I’m sure it is nothing but Love!”
“Say whose is the skill that paints valley and hill,
Like a picture so fair to the sight?
That flecks the green meadow with sunshine and shadow,
Till the little lambs leap with delight?
“ ’Tis a secret untold to hearts cruel and cold,
Though ’tis sung, by the angels above,
In notes that ring clear for the ears that can hear –
[30] And the name of the secret is Love!”
“For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I’m sure it is nothing but Love!”
The Pig-Tale
Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters –
I’ve a Tale to tell.
Little Birds are feeding
Justices with jam,
Rich in frizzled ham:
[10] Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters –
That is what I am.
Little Birds are teaching
Tigresses to smile,
Innocent of guile:
Smile, I say, not smirkle –
Mouth a semicircle,
That’s the proper style.
Little Birds are sleeping
[20] All among the pins,
Where the loser wins:
Where, I say, he sneezes
When and how he pleases –
So the Tale begins.
There was a Pig that sat alone
Jabberwocky and Other Nonsense Page 26