I never loved a dear Gazelle-- 
Nor anything that cost me much: 
High prices profit those who sell, 
But why should I be fond of such? 
To glad me with his soft black eye 
My son comes trotting home from school; 
He's had a fight but can't tell why-- 
He always was a little fool! 

But, when he came to know me well, 
He kicked me out, her testy Sire: 
And when I stained my hair, that Belle 
Might note the change and this admire 

And love me, it was sure to dye 
A muddy green, or staring blue: 
Whilst one might trace, with half an eye, 
The still triumphant carrot through 

Added: Mar 16 2005 | Viewed: 609 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Lewis Carroll
Poem: Theme with Variations

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