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The Hatter turned to me with eyes,
Of fires, turmoils, and desires.
He made a wish that I would see,
That I was he, and he was me. 
As the Drunken Mouse, and Rabbit too,
Bent O'er to sip their nothing stews,
They turn to me and as one say,
"The sunbeams are quite dark today."
"But the sun's not out," I was want to shout,
Still, I sat and watched them mill about.
From chair to chair, and plate to plate,
They dined on air, yet ate, and ate.