R.E. Slater - Eternity

 The Prayer - Celine Dion & Andrea Bocelli (cover) by Genavieve

Featuring MY DADDY! (Nov 30, 2018)

Genavieve Linkowski - Hey guys! I thought it'd be cool

to bring  my dad on here for a song... Didn't he kill it?!

* * * * * * * * * * *

ETERNITY

by R.E. Slater

September 10, 2020


Eternity is a succession of moments
which always form a present

. . . . . . . .

Eternity will never be closer

than it is right now at this moment

. . . . . . . .

The meaning of eternity is held
in the tension of the present present

A tension inherited from the past
prehending and affecting a new novel present

Then as quickly this new tension of the present
projecting outwards prehending future possibilities

Virtual halograms, if you will, of future futures
prehended from past pasts and present presents

All in tension, all comprehending,
each to the other, along eternally present paths...

. . . . . . . .

The substance of eternity is something

which is always held in tension

The tension of the present affecting with the past -

and tension with the future expressing the present

Each temporal process subtending into the other -

eternal moments unfolding from one to the next

Unfolding, unending, ever concreascing...
for if the past prehends, the present concreasces

Coalescing together of parts once separate
increased by one becoming two

Vivacious processes bubbling, forming,
foaming, coming, going, merging, lifting...

Increased by one becoming two - then more,
ethereal effervescing concreasence here then gone

Concreascing processes thriving towards wellbeing
regenerating, healing, nourishing, unceasing...

. . . . . . . .

This is the promise of eternity,
To be... To become... To concreasce...

An eternal hope filled with novel processing moments

each moment accreating into the next present moment

To then fly away in the same breath

into a next moment of becoming...

This is the God-ness of divine

creative moments we feel together

Together as connective beings affecting, and being affected,
by other connective occasions and experiences

Occasions both actual and non-actual where all is possible -

against all that was, and wasn't, till it is, and was

. . . . . . . .

An eternal process which births life from potentiality

putting to action past acceding momentary moments

Concreasing into fleeting present moments

accreating and concrescing into eternal presents

Over and over, again and again
life everlasting, life evermore...

. . . . . . . .

Eternity will never end because it it never started - 
It is a continual process made up of the here and now.

R.E. Slater
September 10, 2020

*dedicated to the process philosophy
of Alfred North Whitehead

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications

all rights reserved

* * * * * * * * * * *













* * * * * * * * * * *


#hallelujah #duet #sisters

Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen (cover) by Genavieve 

Featuring My SIS! (Jan 4, 2019)

Genavieve Linkowski - I thought it'd be fun to bring my sister

back for a cover, so we hope you enjoyed! 

Comments

Rest in peace, Corinn. May you be the best singing angel God has.

May you rest in peace you sweet angel.

I'm so incredibly sorry that your sister is no longer

with us. I know she's somewhere smiling right now...

I believe God planned her last cover to be Hallelujah...

Me watching this after "I lost my sister"

Mom:Why are you crying?

Me: My eyes are sweating.

Me: Continues to cry

Rest in peace, Corinn. May you feel safe in the arms of Jesus.

I didn't know that that was Corinn till now.  She had peace written

all over here face.  And I'm just thinking how you will always have

these magical videos that you sang with her. What a blessing!

THIS is gorgeous. That lower harmony that Corrin sang

is just so rich and unusual, but so perfect. This is so good.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ten Best Poems about Eternity,

Infinity and Immortality

https://interestingliterature.com/2020/06/poems-about-eternity-infinity-immortality/

‘Eternity’s a terrible thought’, as Tom Stoppard famously said. ‘I mean, where’s it all going to end?’ Poets have often dealt with the vast and limitless, the boundless and infinite – whether it’s the concept of the eternal (in time) or the idea of the infinite universe. Or, indeed, the idea of living forever. The ten poems we’ve gathered together below all address some aspect of the eternal or the infinite.

Robert Herrick, ‘Eternity’. This short poem from the Cavalier poet Robert Herrick (1591-1674) is short enough to be quoted in full here. The idea that life gives way to death, and death gives way to the ‘infinity’ that follows death, is summed up in this lyric:

O years! and age! farewell:

Behold I go,

Where I do know

Infinity to dwell.

And these mine eyes shall see

All times, how they

Are lost i’ th’ sea

Of vast eternity: –

Where never moon shall sway

The stars; but she,

And night, shall be

Drown’d in one endless day.

Alexander Pope, ‘Eloisa to Abelard’. This poem by the neoclassical poet Alexander Pope (1688-1744) earns its place on this list partly because of its most famous line, ‘The eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.’ The section of the poem in question runs:

How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!

The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!

Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d;

Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;

‘Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep …’

The poem as a whole, though, contains numerous references to the eternal. It’s a verse epistle (a letter told in heroic couplets) based on the medieval figures Héloïse d’Argenteui and her teacher, the French philosopher Peter Abelard, whom she secretly wedded.

William Blake, ‘Eternity’. This short poem by the Romantic visionary poet William Blake (1757-1827) is short enough to be quoted here in full:

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy

He who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise.

The poem can be said to encapsulate Blake’s central moral tenets of freedom and selflessness, especially concerning the natural world.

William Wordsworth, ‘Ode: Intimations of Immortality’. 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

It is not now as it hath been of yore;—

Turn wheresoe’er I may,

By night or day.

The things which I have seen I now can see no more …

Philip Larkin once recalled hearing this poem recited on BBC radio, and having to pull over to the side of the road, as his eyes had filled with tears. It remains a powerful poetic meditation on death, the loss of childhood innocence, and the way we tend to get further away from ourselves – our true roots and our beliefs – as we grow older.

John Clare, ‘An Invite to Eternity’. Like Blake and Wordsworth, Clare was a Romantic poet. This haunting poem draws on the natural world for its imagery, but it’s an unnerving address from a strange male speaker to a ‘sweet maid’. He seems to be beckoning her into death, that ‘one eternity’ in which they will both be joined:

The land of shadows wilt thou trace

And look – nor know each other’s face

The present mixed with reasons gone

And past, and present all as one

Say maiden can thy life be led

To join the living to the dead

Then trace thy footsteps on with me

We’re wed to one eternity …

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, ‘Tithonus’. Described by the poet and critic William Empson as ‘a poem in favour of the human practice of dying’ because the poem exposes the horrific reality of what it would be like to live forever, ‘Tithonus’ is based on the Greek myth of Tithonos who was in love with Aurora, goddess of the dawn. Aurora asked the gods to make Tithonus immortal, so they could be together forever, but she forgot to ask for eternal youth; thus Tithonus was destined to get older and older with each passing year, while his lover remained young and beautiful. Tennyson wrote the poem in 1833, shortly after the death of his friend Arthur Hallam, but didn’t publish it until 27 years later.

‘Tithonus’ is not as famous as some of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s other dramatic monologues – ‘Ulysses’ enjoys considerably more popularity – but it is worth analysing because it offers something different from much other poetry.

Tithonus

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,

The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,

Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,

And after many a summer dies the swan.

Me only cruel immortality

Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms,

Here at the quiet limit of the world,

A white-hair’d shadow roaming like a dream

The ever-silent spaces of the East,

Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.

Alas! for this gray shadow, once a man—

So glorious in his beauty and thy choice,

Who madest him thy chosen, that he seem’d

To his great heart none other than a God!

I ask’d thee, ‘Give me immortality.’

Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile,

Like wealthy men, who care not how they give.

But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills,

And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me.

And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’d

To dwell in presence of immortal youth,

Immortal age beside immortal youth,

And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love,

Thy beauty, make amends, tho’ even now,

Close over us, the silver star, thy guide,

Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears

To hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift:

Why should a man desire in any way

To vary from the kindly race of men

Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance

Where all should pause, as is most meet for all?

A soft air fans the cloud apart; there comes

A glimpse of that dark world where I was born.

Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals

From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure,

And bosom beating with a heart renew’d.

Thy cheek begins to redden thro’ the gloom,

Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,

Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team

Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,

And shake the darkness from their loosen’d manes,

And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.

Lo! ever thus thou growest beautiful

In silence, then before thine answer given

Departest, and thy tears are on my cheek.

Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears,

And make me tremble lest a saying learnt,

In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true?

‘The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.’

Ay me! ay me! with what another heart

In days far-off, and with what other eyes

I used to watch—if I be he that watch’d—

The lucid outline forming round thee; saw

The dim curls kindle into sunny rings;

Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood

Glow with the glow that slowly crimson’d all

Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay,

Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm

With kisses balmier than half-opening buds

Of April, and could hear the lips that kiss’d

Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet,

Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing,

While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.

Yet hold me not for ever in thine East:

How can my nature longer mix with thine?

Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold

Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet

Upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam

Floats up from those dim fields about the homes

Of happy men that have the power to die,

And grassy barrows of the happier dead.

Release me, and restore me to the ground;

Thou seëst all things, thou wilt see my grave:

Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn;

I earth in earth forget these empty courts,

And thee returning on thy silver wheels.

Emily Dickinson, ‘Forever – Is Composed of Nows’.

Forever – is composed of Nows –

’Tis not a different time –

Except for Infiniteness –

And Latitude of Home –

From this – experienced Here –

Remove the Dates – to These –

Let Months dissolve in further Months –

And Years – exhale in Years …

So begins this poem from Dickinson, which sees eternity as a succession of moments, which always form the present. It’s as if Dickinson is answering Stoppard’s question from the top of this blog post, before he’d even asked it, with the response: ‘eternity will never end because it never starts – it’s a continual process made up of the here and now’.

Arthur Rimbaud, ‘Eternity’. In this poem about eternity, the precocious French poet of the nineteenth century likens eternity to the sea that had ‘fled away’ with the sun.

Eternity

It has been found again.

What? – Eternity.

It is the sea fled away

With the sun.

Sentinel soul,

Let us whisper the confession

Of the night full of nothingness

And the day on fire.

From humain approbation,

From common urges

You diverge here

And fly off as you may.

Since from you alone,

Satiny embers,

Duty breathes

Without anyone saying: at last.

Here is no hope,

No orietur.

Knowledge and fortitude,

Torture is certain.

It has been found again.

What? – Eternity.

It is the sea fled away

With the sun.

May 1872

T. S. Eliot, ‘Whispers of Immortality’. One of Eliot’s quatrain poems, this one is effectively in two halves: the first half discusses the Jacobean playwright John Webster and his contemporary, the poet John Donne, and how both understood the mortality that lies just under the living do. The second half focuses on the allures of a woman, Grishkin, whose large ‘bust’ promises ‘pneumatic bliss’. This juxtaposition (arguably) serves to underline that Webster and Donne were right: our physical desires are purely motivated by our (often subliminal) knowledge that we will not live forever.

Whispers of Immortality

Webster was much possessed by death

And saw the skull beneath the skin;

And breastless creatures under ground

Leaned backward with a lipless grin.

Daffodil bulbs instead of balls

Stared from the sockets of the eyes!

He knew that thought clings round dead limbs

Tightening its lusts and luxuries.

Donne, I suppose, was such another

Who found no substitute for sense,

To seize and clutch and penetrate;

Expert beyond experience,

He knew the anguish of the marrow

The ague of the skeleton;

No contact possible to flesh

Allayed the fever of the bone.

                         .  .  .  .  .

Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye

Is underlined for emphasis;

Uncorseted, her friendly bust

Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.

The couched Brazilian jaguar

Compels the scampering marmoset

With subtle effluence of cat;

Grishkin has a maisonnette;

The sleek Brazilian jaguar

Does not in its arboreal gloom

Distil so rank a feline smell

As Grishkin in a drawing-room.

And even the Abstract Entities

Circumambulate her charm;

But our lot crawls between dry ribs

To keep our metaphysics warm.

1918, 1919

Sarah Howe, ‘Relativity’. Howe wrote this poem about scientific ideas – specifically relating to Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity and its impact on subsequent physics – and read it to Stephen Hawking, to whom the poem is dedicated. Although it doesn’t explicitly mention infinity, the scope of Howe’s poem is universal in the most literal sense of that word. It’s beautiful, moving, and shows that science continues to inspire some of the finest poetry.

Relativity

for Stephen Hawking

When we wake up brushed by panic in the dark

our pupils grope for the shape of things we know.

Photons loosed from slits like greyhounds at the track

reveal light’s doubleness in their cast shadows

that stripe a dimmed lab’s wall—particles no more—

and with a wave bid all certainties goodbye.

For what’s sure in a universe that dopplers

away like a siren’s midnight cry? They say

a flash seen from on and off a hurtling train

will explain why time dilates like a perfect

afternoon; predicts black holes where parallel lines

will meet, whose stark horizon even starlight,

bent in its tracks, can’t resist. If we can think

this far, might not our eyes adjust to the dark?

Sarah Howe’s Loop of Jade was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection. She is a Fellow at Harvard University’s Radcliffe Institute.

R.E. Slater - Time is a Thief

Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016)
Oct 17, 2016

Alice (Mia Wasikowska) has spent the past few years following in her father's footsteps and sailing the high seas. Upon her return to London, she comes across a magical looking glass and returns to the fantastical realm of Underland and her friends. There she discovers that the Mad Hatter 

Alice Through The Looking Glass:
The Time Rust Takes Over (Part 1)
Mar 4, 2020

Alice Through The Looking Glass:

The Time Rust Takes Over (Part 2)

Mar 5, 2020

Alice Through The Looking Glass:

The Time Rust Takes Over (Part 3)

Mar 5, 2020

Alice Through the Looking Glass 'Time' Featurette (2016)

Jun 3, 2016

* * * * * * * * * * *

Time is a Thief

adapted from

"Alice Through the Looking Glass" (2016)

by Tim Burton

Amended by R.E. Slater

September 10, 2020

Time is a thief and a villain.

It steals without giving back.

It takes whenever it wants.

It cheats one out of life and breath.

It is the harshest of cruel masters.

If I were a thief I would

Steal back lost loves,

Unmask foolish endeavors,

Cheat folly with clearer wisdom,

Do all this and more.

But a dream is not reality

Nor reality but a dream.

Who is to say which is which -

Or which is more?

We have time, you see, to learn.

What I have learned from time is this - 

I thought time was a thief stealing everything I loved,

But I see now that time gives before it takes;

That every day, every hour, is a gift. Kept by Time to be spent.

Though time is a friend to no man it is ever a friend to the wise.

I say to time as I say to all - 

If I were to steal, let me steal back love.

If I were to cheat, let me cheat every moment with love.

If I were unfaithful, may it be folly to lose love's fellowship.

And if I were to err, may I err in loving all my days.

Time's vastness is immeasurable,

It's hoary lifespan immortal,

It's meager moments everlasting.

Time is the poetry of sun, moon and stars,

It measures life lived in eternal moments.

 Time cannot be changed

but time may be learned from,

and from its learning used wisely,

benevolently, charitably,

generously, gravely, and joyously.

Time is all around us.

See it. Share it. Spend it.

It's all we have - and ever will have
c’est vrai, et riche, et rare.

R.E. Slater (Amended)
September 10, 2020

*Visual Poetic Form: A Carroll Chess Piece

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications

all rights reserved

* * * * * * * * * * *







Mad Hatter: [to Time] Is it true that you heal all wounds?

March Hare: Time is on my side!

Mad Hatter: Why is it that you wait for no man?
[covers one eye]

Mallymkun: I just can’t find the time!

[Cheshire appears behind Time]

Mallymkun: Cheshire! Where have you been? You’re late.
[lands on Time’s shoulders]

Cheshire Cat: Actually, I’m right on time.
[Cheshire disappears and the others all laugh; Hatter grabs Time’s hand]

Mad Hatter: I have time on my hand!

Time: You silly nitwits really think that I’ve not heard these cheap jabs before?
Your attempts at mockery fall flat.
[Hatter plays with Time’s shoulder pads]

Mad Hatter: Look! Time is flying!

Time: Enough! No more wasting me!

Mad Hatter: [nervously] I’m having the time of my life?












* * * * * * * * * * *

“I used to think time was a thief…”

https://catholic-link.org/dont-waste-gift-time-alice-through-looking-glass/

by Ignacio Romero

2016

~  Every Minute, Every Second is a Gift. Don’t Waste it.  ~

Tim Burton is, without a doubt, one of the most symbolic directors of the 20th century and the beginning of this century. His signature artistic imprint in his films, each and every one which he’s directed and produced, is the tendency to the strange and grotesque.

Among the titles that can be found on his CV we find The Nightmare Before Christmas, Edward Scissorhands and Big Fish, to mention a few. But one of the movies that has very rich content to discuss is the latest installment of the Alice in Wonderland saga: Alice Through the Looking Glass.

Once again we stumble upon Alicia Kingsleigh, who’s now a little older (because obviously, time goes by). After spending 3 years on an expedition to China, Alicia goes back to London to find out that her ex-boyfriend, Hamish, has assumed the leadership of her father’s company.

She’s forced to choose between her father’s ship and her family’s house. Before Alicia can make her decision, she has to grow up regarding a couple of things, and, what’s better than a good trip to Wonderland to achieve this?

In the “land of dreams,” Alicia finds out that the Mad Hatter is agonizing and that saving his family, who all died in the past, is the only cure to save him. To succeed, she will have to meet the personification of time.

The movie is tremendously illustrative. It poses many subjects that no one can ignore, for instance:  (1) time as something gifted to us, (2) the relationship with our family members and (3) the conscience that there is no time like the present. These are the fundamental points to take into account after (or before) watching the movie:

Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016)

Aug 11, 2016

Alice (Mia Wasikowska) has spent the past few years following in her father's footsteps and sailing the high seas. Upon her return to London, she comes across a magical looking glass and returns to the fantastical realm of Underland and her friends. There she discovers that the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp) has lost his Muchness, so the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) sends her on a quest to borrow the Chronosphere, a metallic globe inside the chamber of the Grand Clock that powers all time. Returning to the past, she embarks on a perilous race to save the Hatter before time runs out.

1. Time as a gift

Frequently, one is on the run and has “no time to lose.” We assume that time is our own and that we give it out freely. We take possession of what is given to us daily and we forget that the time we dispose of as if we’d won it is, in reality, a gift from God.

“I used to think time was a thief. But you give before you take.

Time is a gift. Every minute. Every second,” Alicia says to Time.

What a phrase: “I used to think time was a thief.” How many times has it crossed our minds that someone or something “stole a minute of my time”? Or that “time slipped through my fingers”? As humans, we tend to appropriate things that are not really ours.

It’s good to become aware that all these things are gifts we receive. That every time we open our eyes, we are given one more day on Earth and we can’t get attached since the time that was given to us, sooner or later, ends.

“Man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time;

it all comes to him by pure gift” (C.S Lewis).

2. The value of time: The Past

“Everything in its proper time and place.” We often hear this phrase. The movie gives it a whole new definition… or it reaffirms it in a masterly way. “You might not change the past but you might learn something from it.” What happened in the past, stays in the past. It’s not something we should forget, but we must leave it where it belongs, in its time (past) and space.

3. The value of time: The Present

Holding onto the past to try to change it is a mistake. It is, in fact, a temptation, since God calls us to live the present. “For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity” says C.S. Lewis, and he’s right.

The past, as Mr. Time says in the movie, has a pedagogical function: we have to learn from its examples and counterexamples what we should do and what we should avoid. A mistake from the past can’t be avoided but amended. Time is not determinist, it doesn’t force us to follow a certain course, decided based on our actions, but instead, we can mold what happens to us, we can mend our mistakes.

The present also has incredible value. Everyone can be holy and happy today. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today. We have to take the daily opportunities that God gives us to achieve that daily sanctity. “What ought I to do to be holy, Father?” – used to ask Therese of Lisieux to her spiritual guide – “Make your bed well” – answered the priest. The present is the moment for doing things correctly, the small things: cleaning the kitchen, making the bed, smiling at someone who’s in a bad mood, etc.

4. The value of forgiveness

It’s incredible how the power of forgiveness is so underestimated. How many conflicts all over the world would be solved if each one of us were able to look within ourselves, recognize our own faults and sincerely repent to him or her whom we hurt! In the movie, the White Queen and the Queen of Hearts are a portrait of this.

A problem from the past that, as mentioned before, cannot be changed, is solved by a simple “I’m very sorry. If it’s not too late, can you forgive me?” Asking forgiveness and giving it is not, as it is often defined, simply forgetting what happened. It’s much more than that. To forget is only a part of it. Forgiving is healing the wound that was caused in the past.

To forgive is saying: “I accept your mistake and appreciate that you recognize it, let’s forget about it and go back to our fraternal communion.” In the Gospel, Jesus says,

“Therefore if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.”

We need reconciliation, not only from God in the sacrament of confession, but also from our siblings, friends and neighbors in our everyday lives. Jesus is the example of He who forgives. He is the one we have to imitate, so we can say in our daily prayer: “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

[This post originally appeared here for Catholic-Link Spanish. It was translated into English by Maria Isabel Giraldo.]

* * * * * * * * * * *

The Walrus and the Carpenter

by Lewis Carroll

Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There

“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 over head--

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 that was scarcely odd, because

They'd eaten every one.”