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"A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window-sill, Cocked his shining eye and said 'Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!" In a tiny hollow I found still another, by the same hand: "'T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe." As I went back to the house, bearing my findings, I met my little boy friend.
And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again. This was the poem that Alice read. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!
He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. 'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. However, SOMEBODY killed SOMETHING: that's clear, at any rate
To "GIMBLE" is to make holes like a gimlet. 'Of course it is. It's called "WABE," you know, because it goes a long way before it, and a long way behind it 'And a long way beyond it on each side, Alice added. 'Exactly so. And a "BOROGOVE" is a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all round something like a live mop. 'And then "MOME RATHS"? said Alice.
Meillard was raising his hands; solemnly he addressed the natives: "'Twas brillig and the slithy toves were whooping it up in the Malemute Saloon, and the kid that handled the music box did gyre and gimble in the wabe, and back of the bar in a solo game all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgabe the lady that's known as Lou."
"'T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe." "It seems rather pretty," commented the wise Alice, "but it's rather hard to understand! Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas only I don't exactly know what they are!"
The distant cactus danced grotesquely and black spots flitted between her and the molten iron over which, her fancy said they traveled. Suddenly she laughed crazily: "'Twas brillig, and the slythy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe!" DeWitt laughed hoarsely. "That's just the way it looks to me, Rhoda. But you're just as crazy as I am."
'I can explain all the poems that were ever invented and a good many that haven't been invented just yet. This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse: 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'That's enough to begin with, Humpty Dumpty interrupted: 'there are plenty of hard words there.
Is there any more explanation to the riddle of life than to Alice in Wonderland? Are we not all a lot of "slithy toves, that gyre and gimble in the wabe" or worse? Must we who love living only regard it as one long tragedy?
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