I'd Give All The Wealth

And, Has Thou Slain The Jabberwock? Come To My Arms, My Beamish Boy! O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay! He Chortled In His Joy.

They've A Temper, Some Of Them - Particularly Verbs, They're The Proudest - Adjectives You Can Do Anything With, But Not Verbs.

Fading, With The Night, The Memory Of A Dead Love, And The Withered Leaves Of A Blighted Hope, And The Sickly Repinings And Moody Regrets That Numb The Best Energies Of The Soul: And Rising, Broadening, Rolling Upward Like A Living Flood, The Manly Resolve, And The Dauntless Will, And The Heavenward Gaze Of Faith-the Substance Of Things Hoped For, The Evidence Of Things Not Seen!

In Proceeding To The Dining-room, The Gentleman Gives One Arm To The Lady He Escorts--it Is Unusual To Offer Both.

All Too Soon Will Childhood Gay Realise Life's Sober Sadness. Let's Be Merry While We May, Innocent And Happy Fay! Elves Were Made For Gladness!