1. Humpty Dumpty In winter, when the fields are white icon

1. Humpty Dumpty In winter, when the fields are white


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1. Humpty Dumpty


In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight –

In spring, when woods are getting green,
I`ll try and tell you what I mean:

In summer, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.

I sent a message to the fish:
I told them “This is what I wish”.

The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.

The little fishes` answer was
“We cannot do it, Sir, because –“

I sent to them again to say
“It will be better to obey.”

The fishes answered, with a grin,
“Why, what a temper you are in!”

I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump:
I filled the kettle at the pump.

Then some one came to me and said
“The little fishes are in bed”.

I sad to him, I said it plain,
“Then you must wake them up again”.

I said it very loud and clear:
I went and shouted in his ear.

But he was very stiff and proud:
He said, “You needn`t shout so loud!”

And he was very proud and stiff:
He said “I`d go and wake them, if –“

I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.

And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked.

And when I found the door was shut,
I tried to turn the handle, but –


Lewis Carroll


2. The Broken Heart


He told me he loved me,
He gave me red roses,
Twelve crimson roses
As red as my blood.

The roses he gave me,
The roses are withered,
Twelve crimson roses
As red as my blood.

The roses are withered,
But here on my breast, far
Redder than they is
The red of my heart's blood.

He told me he loved me,
He gave me red roses,
Twelve crimson roses
As red as my blood.


Stevie Smith


3. The Lover Mourns


Pale brows, still hands and dim hair,

I had a beautiful friend

And dreamed that the old despair

Would end in love in the end:

She looked in my heart one day

And saw your image was there;

She has gone weeping away.


William Butler Yeats


4. Black March

I have a friend
At the end
Of the world.
His name is a breath

Of fresh air.
He is dressed in
Grey chiffon. At least
I think it is chiffon.
It has a
Peculiar look, like smoke.

It wraps him round
It blows out of place
It conceals him
I have not seen his face.

But I have seen his eyes, they are
As pretty and bright
As raindrops on black twigs
In March, and heard him say:

I am a breath
Of fresh air for you, a change
By and by.

Black March I call him
Because of his eyes
Being like March raindrops
On black twigs.

(Such a pretty time when the sky
Behind black twigs can be seen
Stretched out in one
Uninterrupted
Cambridge blue as cold as snow.)

But this friend
Whatever new names I give him
Is an old friend. He says:

Whatever names you give me
I am
A breath of fresh air,
A change for you.

Stevie Smith


5. Through the Looking Sky


A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July —
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear —
Long had paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die.
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream —
Lingering in the golden gleam —
Life, what is it but a dream?


Lewis Carroll


6. The Hat


I love My Hat

My beautiful Hat

More than anything

And Threw my hat

My beautiful hat

I see a wedding ring

The king will marry me

And make me his own

Before old

And when I’m married

I shall wear my hat

And walk on the palace wall


Stevie Smith


7. Tweedledum


'The sun was shining on the sea,
   Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
   The billows smooth and bright
And this was odd, because it was
   The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
   Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
   After the day was done
"It's very rude of him", she said,
   "To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
   The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
   No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead
   There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
   Were walking close at hand:
They wept like anything to see
   Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
   They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
   Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
   "That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
   And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
   The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
   Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
   To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
   But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
   And shook his heavy head
Meaning to say he did not choose
   To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
   All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
   Their shoes were clean and neat
And this was odd, because, you know,
   They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
   And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
   And more, and more, and more
All hopping through the frothy waves,
   And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
   Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
   Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
   And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
   "To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax
   Of cabbages—and kings
And why the sea is boiling hot
   And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
   "Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
   And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
   They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
   "Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
   Are very good indeed
Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear,
   We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
   Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
   A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
   "Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
   And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
   "Cut us another slice.
I wish you were not quite so deaf
   I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
   "To play them such a trick.
After we've brought them out so far,
   And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
   "The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
   "I deeply sympathise."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
   Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
   Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
   "You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
   But answer came there none
And this was scarcely odd, because
   They'd eaten every one.'


Lewis Carroll


9. The Bereaved Swan


Wan

Swan

On the lake

Like a cake

Of soap

Why is the swan

Wan

On the lake?

He has abandoned hope.


Wan

Swan

On the lake afloat

Bows his head:

O would that I were dead

For her sake that lies

Wrapped from my eyes

In a mantle of death,

The swan saith

Steve Smith


10. The Deathly Child


The deathly child is very gay

He walks in the sunshine but no shadow falls his way.

He has come to warn us that one must go who would rather

stay


Oh deathly child

With a hear of woe

And a smile on your face

Who is it that must go?


He walks down the avenue, the trees

Have leaves that are silver when they are turned upon the

breeze

He is more pale than the silver leaves more pale that these


He walks delicately,

He has a delicate tread.

Why look, he leaves, no mark at all

Where the dust is spread


Over the café tables the talk is going to and fro

An the people smile and they frown, but they do not know

That the deathly child walks. Ah who is it that must go?


Stevie Smith

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