Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 47

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 quant.i.ties 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 sh.o.r.e.

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 b.u.t.ter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said; "I deeply sympathize."

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._

The Teacher's Dream

The weary teacher sat alone While twilight gathered on: And not a sound was heard around,-- The boys and girls were gone.

The weary teacher sat alone; Unnerved and pale was he; Bowed 'neath a yoke of care, he spoke In sad soliloquy:

"Another round, another round Of labor thrown away, Another chain of toil and pain Dragged through a tedious day.

"Of no avail is constant zeal, Love's sacrifice is lost.

The hopes of morn, so golden, turn, Each evening, into dross.

"I squander on a barren field My strength, my life, my all: The seeds I sow will never grow,-- They perish where they fall."

He sighed, and low upon his hands His aching brow he pressed; And o'er his frame ere long there came A soothing sense of rest.

And then he lifted up his face, But started back aghast,-- The room, by strange and sudden change, a.s.sumed proportions vast.

It seemed a Senate-hall, and one Addressed a listening throng; Each burning word all bosoms stirred, Applause rose loud and long.

The 'wildered teacher thought he knew The speaker's voice and look, "And for his name," said he, "the same Is in my record book."

The stately Senate-hall dissolved, A church rose in its place, Wherein there stood a man of G.o.d, Dispensing words of grace.

And though he spoke in solemn tone, And though his hair was gray, The teacher's thought was strangely wrought-- "I whipped that boy to-day."

The church, a phantom, vanished soon; What saw the teacher then?

In cla.s.sic gloom of alcoved room An author plied his pen.

"My idlest lad!" the teacher said, Filled with a new surprise; "Shall I behold his name enrolled Among the great and wise?"

The vision of a cottage home The teacher now descried; A mother's face illumed the place Her influence sanctified.

"A miracle! a miracle!

This matron, well I know, Was but a wild and careless child, Not half an hour ago.

"And when she to her children speaks Of duty's golden rule, Her lips repeat in accents sweet, My words to her at school."

The scene was changed again, and lo!

The schoolhouse rude and old; Upon the wall did darkness fall, The evening air was cold.

"A dream!" the sleeper, waking, said, Then paced along the floor, And, whistling slow and soft and low, He locked the schoolhouse door.