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Чистый nonsense

Long years agoThe Dong was happy and gay,Till he fell in love with a Jumbly GirlWho came to those shores one day,For the Jumblies came in a Sieve, they did, —Landing at eve near the Zemmery FiddWhere the Oblong Oysters grow,And the rocks are smooth and gray.And all the woods and the valleys rangWith the Chorus they daily and nightly sang, —'Far and few, far and few,Are the lands where the Jumblies live;Their heads are green, and their hands are blueAnd they went to sea in a Sieve.Happily, happily passed those days!While the cheerful Jumblies staid;They danced in circlets all night long,To the plaintive pipe of the lively Dong,In moonlight, shine, or shade.For day and night he was always thereBy the side of the Jumbly Girl so fair,With her sky-blue hands, and her sea-green hair.Till the morning came of that hateful dayWhen the Jumblies sailed in their Sieve away,And the Dong was left on the cruel shoreGazing – gazing for evermore, —Ever keeping his weary eyes onThat pea-green sail on the far horizon, —Singing the Jumbly Chorus stillAs he sate all day on the grassy hill, —'Far and few, far and few,Are the lands where the Jumblies live;Their heads are green, and their hands are blueAnd they went to sea in a Sieve.But when the sun was low in the West,The Dong arose and said, —'What little sense I once possessedHas quite gone out of my head! —And since that day he wanders stillBy lake and forest, marsh and hill,Singing – 'O somewhere, in valley or plainMight I find my Jumbly Girl again!For ever I'll seek by lake and shoreTill I find my Jumbly Girl once more!Playing a pipe with silvery squeaks,Since then his Jumbly Girl he seeks,And because by night he could not see,He gathered the bark of the Twangum TreeOn the flowery plain that grows.And he wove him a wondrous Nose, —A Nose as strange as a Nose could be!Of vast proportions and painted red,And tied with cords to the back of his head.In a hollow rounded space it endedWith a luminous Lamp within suspended,All fenced aboutWith a bandage stoutTo prevent the wind from blowing it out; —And with holes all round to send the light,In gleaming rays on the dismal night.And now each night, and all night long,Over those plains still roams the Dong;And above the wail of the Chimp and SnipeYou may hear the squeak of his plaintive pipeWhile ever he seeks, but seeks in vainTo meet with his Jumbly Girl again;Lonely and wild – all night he goes, —The Dong with a luminous Nose!And all who watch at the midnight hour,From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower,Cry, as they trace the Meteor bright,Moving along through the dreary night, —'This is the hour when forth he goes,The Dong with a luminous Nose!Yonder – over the plain he goes;He goes!He goes;The Dong with a luminous Nose!

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