One of the joys of cleaning one’s room is discovering old notes and annotations stuffed into worn-out books. Today, I found a poem written for an English assignment, made entirely of lines from Through the Looking-Glass.
She floated on through the hall, a new
invention for getting down stairs quickly.
Trying turn after turn, but always
coming back to the house, do what she would.
A little provoked, she drew back and thought
she would try the plan of walking in the opposite direction.
The queen cried, “Faster! Faster!” and everything
was just as it was.
So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped
over the first of the six little brooks.
* * * * * *
* * * * *
At last he said, “You’re traveling the wrong way,”
and shut up the window and went away.
The White Queen came running wildly through
the wood, as if she were flying.
“Look, look!” she cried. “There’s the White Queen
running across the country! – How fast those Queens can run!”
The messenger kept skipping up and down,
and wriggling like an eel, as he came along.
It seemed a regular rule that, whenever a horse stumbled,
the rider fell off instantly.
Whenever the horse stopped, he fell off in front;
whenever it went on again, he fell off behind.
After the fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn,
and then she waved her handkerchief to him, and waited till he was out of sight.