If It Had Grown Up, It Would

The Chief Difficulty Alice Found At First Was In Managing Her Flamingo.

I Wonder If The Snow Loves The Trees And Fields, That It Kisses Them So Gently? And Then It Covers Them Up Snug, You Know, With A White Quilt; And Perhaps It Says "go To Sleep, Darlings, Till The Summer Comes Again.

Do Not, Oh Do Not Indulge Such A Wild Idea That A Newspaper Might Err! If So What Have We To Trust In This Age Of Sham?

'but I Don't Want To Go Among Mad People,' Said Alice. 'oh, You Can't Help That,' Said The Cat. 'we're All Mad Here.'

Come, Hearken Then, Ere Voice Of Dread, With Bitter Tiding Laden, Shall Summon To Unwelcome Bed A Melancholy Maiden! We Are But Older Children, Dear, Who Fret To Find Our Bedtime Near.