Alice in wonderland / compiled by Lou Burnard
dc.contributor | Burnard, Lou Computing Service, University of Oxford |
dc.contributor.author | Carroll, Lewis, 1832-1898 |
dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
dc.date.accessioned | 2019-07-04T10:58:20Z |
dc.date.available | 2019-07-04T10:58:20Z |
dc.date.created | 1865 |
dc.date.issued | 1980-01-01 |
dc.identifier | ota:0027 |
dc.identifier.citation | http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/0027 |
dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/0027 |
dc.format.extent | Text data less than 512 KB Contains markup characters |
dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
dc.language | English |
dc.language.iso | eng |
dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
dc.relation.ispartof | Legacy Collection Digital Museum |
dc.rights | Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. |
dc.rights.uri | http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ |
dc.rights.label | PUB |
dc.subject.lcsh | Juvenile literature -- Great Britain -- 19th century |
dc.subject.other | Juvenile literature |
dc.title | Alice in wonderland / compiled by Lou Burnard |
dc.type | Text |
has.files | yes |
branding | Oxford Text Archive |
files.size | 309313 |
files.count | 2 |
otaterms.date.range | 1800-1899 |
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ALICE IN WONDERLAND
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide ;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel Three ! In such an hour
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict to begin it--
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
"There will be nonsense in it!"--
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not <1more>1 than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast--
And half believe it true.
And ever, as the story drained
And faintly strove that weary one
The rest next time-- It <1is>1 next time!
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland :
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out--
And now the tale is . . .