Cacophony or Euphony
Betty Botter bought some butter, but she said "this butter's bitter! But a bit
of better butter will but make my butter better" So she bought some better
butter, better than the bitter butter, and it made her butter better so 'twas
better Betty Botter bought a bit of better butter!
To Autumn
by
John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
The lovely Linda strolled through the beautiful spring garden.
How much wood could a wood chuck; chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood
For brave comportment, wit without offence,
Words fully flowing, yet of influence:
Thou art that man of men, the man alone,
Worthy the public admiration:
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
if Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
wheres the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
Hear the sledges with the bellsSilver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
That Poesy has wreaths for you alone:
There is a narrowness in such a notion,
Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for ocean.
It's not the cough that carries you off, it's the coffin they carry you off in!
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!