Ah, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God – that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.
Ah, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God – that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.
"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be, and if it were so, it would be; but as…
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very Heaven!
When You are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take…