Jabberwocky and Other Nonsense
Page 18
Until a longing in thy soul arise
That this indeed were life:
That thou couldst find Him there,
Bend at His sacred feet thy willing knee,
And from thy heart pour out the passionate prayer
“Lord, let me follow Thee!”
But see the crowd divide;
Mother and sire have found their lost one now:
The gentle voice, that fain would seem to chide
[60] Whispers, “Son, why hast thou” –
In tone of sad amaze –
“Thus dealt with us, that art our dearest thing?
Behold, thy sire and I, three weary days,
Have sought thee sorrowing.”
And I had stayed to hear
The loving words, “How is it that ye sought?” –
But that the sudden lark, with matins clear,
Severed the links of thought.
Then over all there fell
[70] Shadow and silence; and my dream was fled,
As fade the phantoms of a wizard’s cell
When the dark charm is said.
Yet, in the gathering light
I lay with half-shut eyes that would not wake,
Lovingly clinging to the skirts of night
For that sweet vision’s sake.
Faces in the Fire
The night creeps onward, sad and slow:
In these red embers’ dying glow
The forms of Fancy come and go.
An island-farm – broad seas of corn
Swayed by the wandering breath of morn –
The happy spot where I was born.
The picture fadeth in its place:
Amid the glow I seem to trace
The shifting semblance of a face.
[10] ’Tis now a little childish form –
Red lips for kisses pouted warm –
And elf-locks tangled in the storm.
’Tis now a grave and gentle maid,
At her own beauty half afraid,
Shrinking, and willing to be stayed.
Oh, time was young, and life was warm,
When first I saw that fairy form,
Her dark hair fluttering in the storm;
And fast and free these pulses played,
[20] When last I met that gentle maid –
When last her hand in mine was laid.
Those locks of jet are turned to grey,
And she is strange and far away
That might have been mine own to-day –
That might have been mine own, my dear,
Through many and many a happy year –
That might have sat beside me here.
Aye, changeless through the changing scene,
The ghostly whisper rings between,
[30] The dark refrain of “might have been.”
The race is o’er I might have run,
The deeds are past I might have done,
And sere the wreath I might have won.
Sunk is the last faint, flickering blaze;
The vision of departed days
Is vanished even as I gaze.
The pictures with their ruddy light
Are changed to dust and ashes white,
And I am left alone with night.
Puzzles from Wonderland (1870)
I
Dreaming of apples on a wall,
And dreaming often, dear,
I dreamed that, if I counted all,
– How many would appear?
II
A stick I found that weighed two pound:
I sawed it up one day
In pieces eight of equal weight!
How much did each piece weigh?
III
John gave his brother James a box:
About it there were many locks.
James woke and said it gave him pain;
So gave it back to John again.
The box was not with lid supplied,
Yet caused two lids to open wide:
And all these locks had never a key –
What kind of a box, then, could it be?
IV
What is most like a bee in May?
“Well, let me think: perhaps –” you say.
Bravo! You’re guessing well to-day!
V
Three sisters at breakfast were feeding the cat,
The first gave it sole – Puss was grateful for that:
The next gave it salmon – which Puss thought a treat:
The third gave it herring – which Puss wouldn’t eat.
(Explain the conduct of the cat.)
VI
Said the Moon to the Sun,
“Is the daylight begun?”
Said the Sun to the Moon,
“Not a minute too soon.”
“You’re a Full Moon,” said he.
She replied with a frown,
“Well! I never did see
So uncivil a clown!”
(Query. Why was the moon so angry?)
VII
When the King found that his money was nearly all gone, and that he really must live more economically, he decided on sending away most of his Wise Men. There were some hundreds of them – very fine old men, and magnificently dressed in green velvet gowns with gold buttons: if they had a fault, it was that they always contradicted one another when he asked for their advice – and they certainly ate and drank enormously. So, on the whole, he was rather glad to get rid of them. But there was an old law, which he did not dare to disobey, which said that there must always be
“Seven blind of both eyes:
Two blind of one eye:
Five that see with both eyes:
Nine that see with one eye.”
(Query. How many did he keep?)
Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There (1872)
[Prologue to “Through the Looking-Glass”]
Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.
I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter:
No thought of me shall find a place
[10] In thy young life’s hereafter –
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing –
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of our rowing –
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say “forget.”
Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
[20] With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear,
Who fret to find our bedtime near.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind’s moody madness –
Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow,
And childhood’s nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
[30] Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story,
For “happy summer days” gone by,
And vanish’d summer glory –
It shall not touch with breath of bale
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.
Jabberwocky
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
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 Bande
rsnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
[10] 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 whiffling 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
[20] 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.
[“Tweedledum and Tweedledee”]
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.
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
[10] 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
[20] 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,
[30] 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,
[40] 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,
[50] 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
[60] 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,
[70] 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,
[80] 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 –
[90] 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 sympathise.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
[100] 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.
[Humpty Dumpty’s Song
“written entirely for Alice’s amusement”]
In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight———
In spring, when woods are getting green,
I’ll try and tell you what I mean:
In summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you’ll understand the song:
In autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.
I sent a message to the fish:
[10] I told them “This is what I wish.”
The little fishes of the sea
They sent an answer back to me.
The little fishes’ answer was
“We cannot do it, Sir, because———”
I sent to them again to say
“It will be better to obey.”
The fishes answered with a grin
“Why, what a temper you are in!”
I told them once, I told them twice:
[20] They would not listen to advice.
I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.
My heart went hop, my heart went thump:
I filled the kettle at the pump.
Then some one came to me and said,
“The little fishes are in bed.”
I said to him, I said it plain,
“Then you must wake them up again.”
I said it very loud and clear;
[30] I went and shouted in his ear.
But he was very stiff and proud;
He said “You needn’t shout so loud!”
And he was very
proud and stiff;
He said “I’d go and wake them, if———”
I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.
And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked.
And when I found the door was shut.
[40] I tried to turn the handle, but———
[The White Knight’s Song]
I’ll tell thee everything I can:
There’s little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
“Who are you, aged man?” I said.
“And how is it you live?”
And his answer trickled through my head,
Like water through a sieve.
He said, “I look for butterflies
[10] That sleep among the wheat;
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,” he said,
“Who sail on stormy seas;
And that’s the way I get my bread –
A trifle, if you please.”
But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one’s whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
[20] That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, “Come, tell me how you live!”
And thumped him on the head.
His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, “I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
[30] Rowland’s Macassar-Oil –
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.”
But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue,
“Come, tell me how you live,” I cried,
[40] “And what it is you do!”
He said, “I hunt for haddocks’ eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.