Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Alice Through the Looking-Glass. Льюис Кэрролл

      All in the golden afternoon

       Full leisurely we glide;

       For both our oars, with little skill,

       By little arms are plied

       While little hands make vain pretence

       Our wanderings to guide.

      Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour

       Beneath such dreamy weather,

       To beg a tale of breath too weak

       To stir the tiniest feather!

       Yet what can one poor voice avail

       Against three tongues together?

      Imperious Prima flashes forth

       Her edict to ‘begin it’:

       In gentler tone Secunda hopes

       ‘There will be nonsense in it’

       While Tertia interrupts the tale

       Not more than once a minute.

      Anon, to sudden silence won,

       In fancy they pursue

       The dream-child moving through a land

       Of wonders wild and new,

       In friendly chat with bird or beast—

       And half believe it true.

      And ever, as the story drained

       The wells of fancy dry,

       And faintly strove that weary one

       To put the subject by,

       ‘The rest next time’—‘It is next time!’ The happy voices cry.

      Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:

       Thus slowly, one by one,

       Its quaint events were hammered out—

       And now the tale is done,

       And home we steer, a merry crew,

       Beneath the setting sun.

      Alice! a childish story take,

       And with a gentle hand

       Lay it where Childhood’s dreams are twined

       In Memory’s mystic band,

       Like pilgrim’s wither’d wreath of flowers

       Pluck’d in a far-off land.

Christmas Greetings

       (From a Fairy to a Child)

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      Lady dear, if Fairies may

       For a moment lay aside

       Cunning tricks and elfish play,

       ’Tis at happy Christmas-tide.

      We have heard the children say—

       Gentle children, whom we love—

       Long ago, on Christmas Day,

       Came a message from above.

      Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,

       They remember it again—

       Echo still the joyful sound

       “Peace on earth, good-will to men!”

      Yet the hearts must childlike be

       Where such heavenly guests abide:

       Unto children, in their glee,

       All the year is Christmas-tide!

      Thus, forgetting tricks and play

       For a moment, Lady dear,

       We would wish you, if we may,

       Merry Christmas, glad New Year!

       Christmas, 1867

Chapter 1

      Down the Rabbit-Hole

      Table of Contents