| To the horror of all who were present that day, He uprose in full evening dress, And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say What his tongue could no longer express. Down he sank in a chair—ran his hands through his hair— And chanted in mimsiest tones Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity, While he rattled a couple of bones. “Leave him here to his fate—it is getting so late!” The Bellman exclaimed in a fright. “We have lost half the day. Any further delay, And we sha’n’t catch a Snark before night!” |
Fit the Eighth.
THE VANISHING.
“THEN, SILENCE”
| They hunted till darkness came on, but they found Not a button, or feather, or mark, By which they could tell that they stood on the ground Where the Baker had met with the Snark. In the midst of the word he was trying to say, In the midst of his laughter and glee, He had softly and suddenly vanished away— For the Snark was a Boojum, you see. |