Page:Carroll - Rhyme and Reason.djvu/221

Rh And thus they give the time, that Nature meant
 * For peaceful sleep and meditative snores,

To ceaseless din and mindless merriment
 * And waste of shoes and floors.

And One (we name him not) that flies the flowers,
 * That dreads the dances, and that shuns the salads,

They doom to pass in solitude the hours,
 * Writing acrostic-ballads.

How late it grows! The hour is surely past
 * That should have warned us with its double-knock?

The twilight wanes, and morning comes at last–
 * “Oh, Uncle, what’s o’clock?”

The Uncle gravely nods, and wisely winks.
 * It may mean much, but how is one to know?

He opes his mouth–yet out of it, methinks,
 * No words of wisdom flow.