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'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.



'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!'



He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought --

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood a while in thought.



And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!



One two! One two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.



'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'

He chortled in his joy.



'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

COMMENTS

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dabbler
14:38 Feb 27 2014

That is the coolest poem ever. My first crush as a wee lad could recite it. Another girl i knew could recite The Great Smoke Off by Shel Silverstein.

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POST COMMENT

I ne'er was struck before that hour

With love so sudden and so sweet,

Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower

And stole my heart away complete.

My face turned pale as deadly pale.

My legs refused to walk away,

And when she looked, what could I ail?

My life and all seemed turned to clay.



And then my blood rushed to my face

And took my sight away.

The trees and bushes round the place

Seemed midnight at noonday.

I could not see a single thing,

Words from my eyes did start --

They spoke as chords do from the string,

And blood burnt round my heart.



Are flowers the winter's choice?

Is love's bed always snow?

She seemed to hear my silent voice,

And love's appeal to know.

I never saw so sweet a face

As that I stood before.

My heart has left its dwelling-place

And can return no more.

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me:

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me,

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.



I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain;

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.