O Frabjous Night

He waits beside the tree so tum and tall

While streaming lamps collapse to earth beneath.

He does not hear them shatter as they fall;

His ears they strain to hear the Jabberwok’s teeth.

Not grinding jaws, but terrible burbles sound,

Berate the night with fearsome noise until

The son’s blood chills to feel it in the ground.

Was this the monster he had sworn to kill?

Between the trees he sees those eyes of flame

And though he grips his vorpal blade so tight,

His skin grows cold—his heart it feels the same—

As claws reach out to catch, and jaws to bite.

But swing he does, with awesome snicker-snack

And under stars, he goes gallumphing back.