Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/37

Rh  And I remember nothing more
 * That I can clearly fix,

Till I was sitting on the floor, Repeating "Two and three are four,
 * But three and two are six."

What really passed I never learned,
 * Nor guessed: I only know

That, when at last my sense returned, The lamp, neglected, dimly burned—
 * The fire was getting low—

Through driving mists I seemed to see
 * A form of sheet and bone—

And found that he was telling me The whole of his biography
 * In a familiar tone.