"'Twas brillig: toves gyred in the wabe (sev'ral, slithy) while mome raths outgrabe."
Rev'rend Dodgson penn'd scores of such scenes and Carrollians know what he means.
"Mass times the speed of light squared equals energy," Albert declared.
(He was young, barely out of his teens.) Ev'ry physicist knows what he means.
Tho' off, does Lear's Scroobious Pip, piping, "Chippety...Flippety Chip,"
taxonomical cushions careens...still, most everyone knows what it means.
"I'm a genius...I'm stable -- all true! -- with the best words...the highest IQ...
with big hands...with superior genes..." Breathe there any who know what he means?
Uly Poe pens dogg'rel verse. "'Tis fun," hums Uly, "I disburse." The gamut runs from bad to worse. The matter treated...? Quite diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a blessing largely. (Not a curse.)
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