"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Lewis Carroll - 'Tis the Voice of the Lobster


"'Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.'

As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark:
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound."


"I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panter were sharing a pie:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by [eating the owl.]

 
Lewis Carroll


Lewis Carroll - The Lobster Quadrille

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle - will you come and join the dance?


    Will you, won't you, will you, won't you,
          will you join the dance?
    Will you, won't you, will you, won't you,
          won't you join the dance?"


"You can really have no notion how delightful it would be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters out to sea!"
But the snail replied "Too far, too far!", and gave a look askance -
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.


    Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
    Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.


"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied.
"There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The farther off from England the nearer is to France -
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.


    Will you, won't you, will you, won't you,
          will you join the dance?
    Will you, won't you, will you, won't you,
          won't you join the dance?"


Lewis Carroll




Lewis Carroll - A Game of Fives


Five little girls, of Five, Four, Three, Two, One:
Rolling on the hearthrug, full of tricks and fun.


Five rosy girls, in years from Ten to Six:
Sitting down to lessons - no more time for tricks.

Five growing girls, from Fifteen to Eleven:
Music, Drawing, Languages, and food enough for seven!

Five winsome girls, from Twenty to Sixteen:
Each young man that calls, I say "Now tell me which you MEAN!"

Five dashing girls, the youngest Twenty-one:
But, if nobody proposes, what is there to be done?

Five showy girls - but Thirty is an age
When girls may be ENGAGING, but they somehow don't ENGAGE.

Five dressy girls, of Thirty-one or more:
So gracious to the shy young men they snubbed so much before!

* * * *

Five PASSE girls - Their age? Well, never mind!
We jog along together, like the rest of human kind:
But the quondam "careless bachelor" begins to think he knows
The answer to that ancient problem "how the money goes"!

Lewis Carroll


Lewis Carroll - A Sea Dirge


There are certain things - as, a spider, a ghost,
The income - tax, gout, an umbrella for three -
That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most
Is a thing they call the Sea.


Pour some salt water over the floor -
Ugly I'm sure you'll allow it to be:
Suppose it extended a mile or more,
THAT'S very like the Sea.

Beat a dog till it howls outright -
Cruel, but all very well for a spree:
Suppose that he did so day and night,
THAT would be like the Sea.

I had a vision of nursery-maids;
Tens of thousands passed by me -
All leading children with wooden spades,
And this was by the Sea.

Who invented those spades of wood?
Who was it cut them out of the tree?
None, I think, but an idiot could -
Or one that loved the Sea.

It is pleasant and dreamy, no doubt, to float
With 'thoughts as boundless, and souls as free':
But, suppose you are very unwell in the boat,
How do you like the Sea?

There is an insect that people avoid
(Whence is derived the verb 'to flee').
Where have you been by it most annoyed?
In lodgings by the Sea.

If you like your coffee with sand for dregs,
A decided hint of salt in your tea,
And a fishy taste in the very eggs -
By all means choose the Sea.

And if, with these dainties to drink and eat,
You prefer not a vestige of grass or tree,
And a chronic state of wet in your feet,
Then - I recommend the Sea.

For I have friends who dwell by the coast -
Pleasant friends they are to me!
It is when I am with them I wonder most
That anyone likes the Sea.

They take me a walk: though tired and stiff,
To climb the heights I madly agree;
And, after a tumble or so from the cliff,
They kindly suggest the Sea.

I try the rocks, and I think it cool
That they laugh with such an excess of glee,
As I heavily slip into every pool
That skirts the cold, cold Sea.


Lewis Carroll


 

Lewis Carroll - Speak Roughly to Your Little Boy


And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so,
and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line:

Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes;
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases."


CHORUS
(in which the cook and the baby joined): -- --

"Wow! wow! wow!"


While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up
and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words: -- --

"I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!"


CHORUS

"Wow! wow! wow!"


Lewis Carroll


 

Lewis Carroll - You Are Old, Father William


You are old, father William," the young man said,
    "And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
    Do you think, at your age, it is right?"


"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
    "I feared it would injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
    Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
    And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door --
    Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
    "I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment -- one shilling the box --
    Allow me to sell you a couple."

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
    For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak --
    Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
    And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
    Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth; one would hardly suppose
    That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose --
    What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
    Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
    Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"


Lewis Carroll


 

Lewis Carroll - The Walrus and the Carpenter


"The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright --
And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.


The moon was shining sulkily,
     Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done --
"It's very rude of him," she said,
    "To come and spoil the fun."

The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead --
    There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
`If this were only cleared away,'
    They said, `it would be grand!'

`If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,
    `That they could get it clear?'
`I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.

`O Oysters, come and walk with us!'
    The Walrus did beseech.
`A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each.'

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
    But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head --
Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat --
And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more --
All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.

`The time has come,' the Walrus said,
    `To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing-wax --
    Of cabbages -- and kings --
And why the sea is boiling hot --
    And whether pigs have wings.'

`But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,
    `Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!'
`No hurry!' said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.

`A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,
    `Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed --
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed.'

`But not on us!' the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue.
`After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!'
`The night is fine,' the Walrus said.
    `Do you admire the view?

`It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
    `Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf --
    I've had to ask you twice!'

`It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,
    `To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
    `The butter's spread too thick!'

`I weep for you,' the Walrus said:
    `I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
     Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
     Before his streaming eyes.

`O Oysters,' said the Carpenter,
     `You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
     But answer came there none --
And this was scarcely odd, because
     They'd eaten every one.


Lewis Carroll


 

Lewis Carroll - How Doth the Little Crocodile


How doth the little crocodile
  Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
  On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,
  How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
  With gently smiling jaws!"

Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carroll - Echoes


Lady Clara Vere de Vere
Was
eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.

She took her little porringer:
Of me she shall not win renown:
For the baseness of its nature shall have strength to drag her
down.

"Sisters and brothers, little Maid?
There stands the Inspector at thy door:
Like a dog, he hunts for boys who know not two and two are four."

"Kind words are more than coronets,"
She said, and wondering looked at me:
"It is the dead unhappy night, and I must hurry
home to tea."


Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carroll - Jabberwocky


'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wade;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.


"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree.
    And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came wiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
    He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.


Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carroll - A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

 
A British family on a outing on a punt


A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --


Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear --

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden dream --
Life, what is it but a dream?


Lewis Carroll

*Lewis' recited his early tales of Alice in Wonderland to his children as they punted down the pleasant streams near home working each rhyme and storyline out in their incredulous ears. In this poem the first letter of each line spell out "Alice Pleasance Liddell," the name of the little girl who inspired Lewis Carroll to write "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There." The poem starts by describing the author in a boat with Alice and her two sisters, telling them the story that he would later revise for publication. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Liddell

 

Henry John Yeend King (British artist, 1855-1924), Two Ladies Punting on the River

 


Myles Birket Foster, Children Angling in a Punt on the Thames
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myles_Birket_Foster
 


Alfred Thompson Bricher (American painter, 1837-1908), Boating in the Afternoon

 

Lewis Carroll - The Lion and the Unicorn


The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown:
The Lion beat the Unicorn all round the town.
Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown:
Some gave them plum-cake and drummed them out of town.'

Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carroll - Christmas Greeting


Lady, dear, if Fairies may
      For a moment lay aside
Cunning tricks and elfish play,
      'Tis at happy Christmas-tide. 

We have heard the children say –
      Gentle children, whom we love –
Long ago on Christmas Day,
      Came a message from above, 

Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,
      They remember it again –
Echo still the joyful sound
      "Peace on earth, good-will to men!" 

Yet the hearts must childlike be
      Where such heavenly guests abide;
Unto children, in their glee,
      All the year is Christmas-tide! 

Thus, forgetting tricks and play
      For a moment, Lady dear,
We would wish you, if we may,
      Merry Christmas, Glad New Year!

Lewis Carroll


 

Lewis Carroll - All in the Golden Afternoon


All in the golden afternoon
      Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
      By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretense
      Our wanderings to guide.

Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
      Beneath such dreamy weather,

To beg a tale of breath too weak
      To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
      Against three tongues together?


Imperious Prima flashes forth
      Her edict to "begin it"—
In gentler tones Secunda hopes
      "There will be nonsense in it"—
While Tertia interrupts the tale
      Not more than once a minute.

Anon, to sudden silence won,
      In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
      Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast—
      And half believe it true.

And ever, as the story drained
      The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
      To put the subject by,
"The rest next time" - "It is next time!"
      The happy voices cry.

Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
      Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out—
      And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
      Beneath the setting sun.


Alice! a childish story take,
      And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
      In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers
      Pluck’d in a far-off land.


Lewis Carroll


 

W.H. Auden - Stop all the Clocks

W. H. Auden, 1937




"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
prevent the dog from barking, with a juicy bone;
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin, let the mourners come."

"Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead,
scribbling on the sky the message he is dead;
put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves,
let traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves."

"He was my north, my south, my east and west,
my working week and my sunday rest;
my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong."

"The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
for nothing now can ever come to any good"