There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,--
A worm his utmost goal.
There was a young lady of Wilts,
Who walked up to Scotland on stilts;
When they said it was shocking
To show so much stocking
She answered: "Then what about kilts?"
There was a young lady named Laura,
Who went to the wilds of Angora,
She came back on a goat
With a beautiful coat,
And notes of the fauna and flora.
There once was an old monk of Basing,
Whose salads were something amazing;
But he told his confessor
That Nebuchadnezzar
Had given him hints upon grazing.
There once was an old man of Lyme
Who married three wives at a time,
When asked, "Why a third?"
He replied, "One's absurd!
And bigamy, sir, is a crime.
There once was a girl of Lahore,
The same shape behind as before;
As no one knew where
To offer a chair,
She had to sit down on the floor.
There is only one Carved-Cloud, exquisite always-
Yet she dreads the spring, blowing cold in the palace,
When her husband, a Knight of the Golden Tortoise,
Will leave her sweet bed, to be early at court.
There is no one
for me
not even me.
There is neither you, nor I;
neither the object of meditation,
nor the process of meditation;
The Father of all action forgot Himself there.
The blind did not see any relationship and support there,
The devout merged with Him, the moment they saw the Lord!
