Larrol Cewis
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Punbar Laul
My tearful eyes my soul’s deep hurt are glassing;
For I would hail and check that ship of ships.
I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud,
My voice falls dead a foot from mine own lips,
And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, passing, passing.
Gox Feorge
The light checks you, when you speak an evil word,
and tells you that you should not be proud or unrestrained,
nor fashion yourselves like the world;
for the fashion of this world passes away.