You are old, Father William -- Lewis Carroll

Guest poem submitted by Ramón Fallon:

(Poem #1544) 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 might 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 you have grown most uncommonly fat; Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -- Pray what is the reason for 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 a 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 fater, "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

Here's a poem by Lewis Carroll who is already well represented on your site
[1], but I think this one is incredibly good. First of all it is really
really catchy - in the musical sense even - it has the kind of lines that
you find yourself unconsciously repeating, like you might whistle a tune.
Also, it has plenty of fantasy in it, as one might expect from Carroll, but
its real crowning achievement, is, in fact, its reality.

Sure, as a poem, it entertains, it indulges, but behind it all it is dealing
with a fundamental issue. Youth's attitude to Age. I find it to be highly
accurate in this sense. Youth is the unrecoverable gift this life gives us,
and this apparently trivial poem frames the situation perfectly.

The youth is quite arrogant, and repeats himself each time with the
subversive aim of reminding Father William how old he is. He's also been
very observant about Father William's actions, which are indeed
awe-inspiring, but his surprise is always in relation to the age of Father
William. It is clear that the youth is more age-obsessed than the father.

If anything Father William is portrayed as quite a happy person, despite his
age, and there is the feeling the youth wants to dissolve that happiness
with his insistence. In the end, I think, the father loses his exuberance at
the unremitting reminders of his age, decides to dispatch the arrogant youth
forthwith  - as you might say.

It's so great to have such masterly crafted set of words, with both great
fun and profound meaning in them!

Ramón.

[1] [broken link] http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/index_poet_C.html#Carroll --
ed.

A Sea Dirge -- Lewis Carroll

Guest poem submitted by Erin Mansell , in response to our
"Sea Poems" theme from a few weeks ago:

(Poem #1014) 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

I have been cursing for the last week or so this stint on the sea so I went
in search of some levity on the subject and feel compelled to forward this
to you. I could find very little information on this particular poem but I
felt if I had to see one more line on the sea it had better be funny. Enjoy!

Erin.

[Minstrels Links]

Lewis Carroll:
Poem #52, Jabberwocky
Poem #265, The Mad Gardener's Song
Poem #347, The Walrus and the Carpenter
Poem #409, Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur
Poem #600, The Mouse's Tale
Poem #935, The Lobster Quadrille
Poem #964, How Doth the Little Crocodile

The cold cold Sea:
Poem #27, Sea Fever  -- John Masefield
Poem #29, The Sea and the Hills  -- Rudyard Kipling
Poem #31, Break, break, break  -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Poem #74, Cargoes  -- John Masefield
Poem #93, Eärendil was a mariner  -- J. R. R. Tolkien
Poem #109, The Viking Terror  -- Anon. (Irish, 9th century)
Poem #114, The Soul Cages  -- Gordon Matthew 'Sting' Sumner
Poem #140, By The Sea  -- Christina Rossetti
Poem #141, The City in the Sea  -- Edgar Allan Poe
Poem #143, Harp Song of the Dane Women  -- Rudyard Kipling
Poem #145, Ice  -- Anon. (Old English, 10th century)
Poem #161, The Yarn of the Nancy Bell  -- W. S. Gilbert
Poem #326, The Seafarer  -- Anon. (Old English, pre-10th century
Poem #431, Sea Love  -- Charlotte Mew
Poem #522, In Harbor  -- Constantine Cavafy
Poem #657, The Dark and Turbulent Sea -- Stephen Dobyns
Poem #717, The Wreck of the Hesperus -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem #758, Sea-Change -- John Masefield
Poem #775, The Maldive Shark -- Herman Melville
Poem #896, The Kraken -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Poem #903, Leviathan -- Anon.
Poem #935, The Lobster Quadrille -- Lewis Carroll
Poem #984, On the Beach at Night -- Walt Whitman
Poem #985, Once by the Pacific -- Robert Frost
Poem #986, A Grave -- Marianne Moore
Poem #987, Prayer -- Carol Ann Duffy
Poem #988, The Idea of Order at Key West -- Wallace Stevens
Poem #989, The Lotos-Eaters -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Poem #990, Sea Calm -- Langston Hughes
Poem #991, Seascape -- Stephen Spender

How Doth the Little Crocodile -- Lewis Carroll

Guest poem sent in by Rajarshi Bandyopadhyay

(Poem #964) 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

Yesterday's 8-line Kipling poem ["The Idiot Boy" -m.] somehow reminded me
(maybe coz of the similar rhythm) of another famous 8-liner, also a parody
of something I don't quite remember. But then, when a parody is more
familiar than the original...says something about the parodist, doesn't it?

"How Doth the Little Crocodile" had the same effect on me as the Kipling
poem...it does not make me roll over in laughter...but just smile happily
for a long time appreciating the impact of the imagery.

-raj

[Martin adds]

Carroll was parodying Isaac Watts' "Against Idleness and Mischief", a rather
tedious and moralistic poem (and a prime example of what I call "Good Advice
for the Younger Generation") that well deserved it. As Raj said, when a
parody is more famous than the original it certainly does say something
about the parodist; in this case we can safely conclude that it says
something about the original too.

Links:

  [broken link] http://home.earthlink.net/~lfdean/carroll/parody/crocodile.html has a
  side-by-side printing of Carroll's parody and Watts' original

  Kipling's "Idiot Boy": Poem #962

  Some links on Carroll as parodist : Poem #935

The Lobster Quadrille -- Lewis Carroll

(Poem #935) 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 will 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 further 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

Note: A parody of Mary Howitt's "The Spider and the Fly"

Today's poem is another of those wonderful pieces that practically sing
themselves. Of course, this is due in part to the fact that Howitt's
original has picked up an associated melody that naturally attaches itself
to Carroll's parody too, but even without taking that into consideration,
Caroll's words and rhythms have a musicality that far improves upon "The
Spider and the Fly".

The poem is also a lovely example of Carroll's rather whimsical sense of
humour - the images are not just funny but delightfully individual. Less
clear is why he picked on Howitt - most of the other parodies in Alice
target poems that by their sheer sententiousness are 'asking for it'.
Perhaps it was Howitt's annoying addition of a moral to the tale, or
perhaps, for once, he just liked the rhythm of the piece :)

Links:

  Biography: [broken link] http://65.107.211.206/victorian/carroll/carrollbio.html

  "The Spider and the Fly": http://ingeb.org/songs/thespide.html

  A list of Carroll's parodies (incomplete - today's poem is one of the
  omissions):
    [broken link] http://home.earthlink.net/~lfdean/carroll/parody/

  The Poets' Corner parody index:
    [broken link] http://www.geocities.com/~spanoudi/poems/SubjIdx/parodies.html

  Carroll on Minstrels:
    Poem #52, "Jabberwocky"
    Poem #265, "The Mad Gardener's Song"
    Poem #347, "The Walrus and the Carpenter"
    Poem #409, "Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur"
    Poem #600, "The Mouse's Tale"

-martin

Beautiful Soup -- Lewis Carroll

(Poem #898) Beautiful Soup Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, Waiting in a hot tureen! Who for such dainties would not stoop? Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Beau--ootiful Soo-oop! Beau--ootiful Soo-oop! Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beautiful Soup! Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, Game, or any other dish? Who would not give all else for two Pennyworth only of Beautiful Soup? Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? Beau--ootiful Soo-oop! Beau--ootiful Soo-oop! Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beauti--FUL SOUP! -- Lewis Carroll

Note: A parody of 'Star of the Evening', James M. Sayles

Unlike most of Carroll's delightful little parodies, this one is not a
particularly funny poem in its own right. Read alongside 'Star of the
Evening', however, it is hilarious - from the sheer bathos of replacing
'star' by 'soup', to the way in which Carroll follows the rather sappy
rhythms and intonations of the original, this poem is a lovely example of
the parodist's art.

Carroll is also, I feel, far more explicitly poking fun at the original than
he was in some of his other parodies. Note the exaggerated lengthening and
stressing of the syllables, the better to indicate that the poem is to be
sung in as affected a manner as possible, and the playful rhyming of 'two
p...' with 'soup'. All in all, a wicked parody that would have been even
funnier to Carroll's original audience than it is to us.

-martin

Links:

Carroll's poem alongside the original:
  [broken link] http://home.earthlink.net/~lfdean/carroll/parody/soup.html

Some intriguing notes and speculations:
  [broken link] http://www.ucd.ie/~classics/2000/imholtz.html

Googling for today's poem brought up a discussion on translating Carroll:
  [broken link] http://www.cc.jyu.fi/~jarloue/harkat/carroll.html

Biography of Carroll:
  Poem #265

And if anyone can find an mp3 of 'Star of the Evening', do send in a link.

The Mouse's Tale -- Lewis Carroll

The poetry of mathematics, eh? How about the poetry of mathematicians... ?

(Poem #600) The Mouse's Tale Fury said to a mouse, That he met in the house, 'Let us both go to law: I will prosecute you.-- Come, I'll take no denial; We must have a trial: For really this morning I've nothing to do.' Said the mouse to the cur, 'Such a trial, dear Sir, With no jury or judge, would be wasting our breath.' 'I'll be judge, I'll be jury,' Said cunning old Fury: 'I'll try the whole cause, and condemn you to death.' -- Lewis Carroll

Possibly the canonical example of emblematic verse - that is, verse
formatted so as to visually resemble its theme. Here's the text that
immediately precedes this charming piece of doggerel:

" "You promised to tell me your history, you know", said Alice, "and why it
is you hate -- C and D", she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would
be offended again.

"Mine is a long and a sad tale!" said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and
sighing.

"It _is_ a long tail, certainly", said Alice, looking down with wonder at
the Mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?" And she kept on puzzling
about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was
something like this -- " "

        -- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

Curiously enough, "in the original manuscript of the book, an entirely
different poem appears as the tale; in a way, a more appropriate one, for it
fulfills the mouse's promise to explain why he dislikes cats and dogs,
whereas the tale as it appears [in the published version] contains no
reference to cats" [1].

Here's the unpublished original:

        We lived beneath the mat,
        Warm and snug and fat.
        But one woe, and that
        Was the cat!

        To our joys a clog.
        In our eyes a fog.
        On our hearts a log
        Was the dog!

        When the cat's away,
        Then the mice will play.
        But alas! one day;
        (So, they say)

        Came the dog and cat
        Hunting for a rat,
        Crushed the mice all flat,
        Each one as he sat,
        Underneath the mat,
        Warm and snug and fat.
        Think of that! "

        -- Lewis Carroll, draft manuscript of Alice in Wonderland.

(Aren't you glad Carroll chose to go with the revised version in the book?)

thomas.

[1] Martin Gardner, The Annotated Alice.

[Links]

Several emblematic poems have already featured on the Minstrels:

'Easter Wings' by George Herbert, poem #567
(It was in response to this poem that Anustup Datta pointed out the
technical phrase for the genre, and suggested today's poem for the list.
Thanks, Anustup).

'Landscape: I' by bpNichol, poem #498

'A Prayer to the Sun', by Geoffrey Hill, poem #349

We've visited Lewis Carroll before:
poem #52
poem #265
poem #347
poem #409
The second of these pages has a brief biography of the poet, including the
immortal line "As a mathematician, Carroll was ... derivative" <grin>. A
longer biography can (as usual) be found in Britannica, http://www.eb.com

[Trivia]

Lewis Carroll was the pseudonym of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Dodgson arrived
at this pen name by taking his own names Charles Lutwidge, translating them
into Latin as Carolus Ludovicus, then reversing and retranslating them into
English.

[More Trivia]

You may have heard the story that Queen Victoria loved Alice in Wonderland
so much that she requested a copy of Lewis Carroll's next book; her reward
was a treatise on determinants [1]. Unfortunately, it's just that - a story.
In the second edition of Symbolic Logic, Dodgson writes: "I take this
opportunity of giving what publicity I can to my contradiction of a silly
story, which has been going the round of the papers, about my having
presented certain books to Her Majesty the Queen. It is so constantly
repeated, and is such absolute fiction, that I think it worthwhile to state,
once for all, that it is utterly false in every particular; nothing even
resembling it has ever occurred." .

[1] Different versions of the story name different books - Symbolic Logic,
The Condensation of Determinants, Euclid and his Rivals...

[And Finally]

"'I'll be judge, I'll be jury,'Said cunning old Fury:" is more than a little
reminiscent of Fit the Sixth from the Hunting of the Snark: the Barrister's
Dream. Herewith, the relevant extract:

   He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,
        Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,
   Dressed in gown, bands, and wig, was defending a pig
        On the charge of deserting its sty.

   ...

   But the Judge said he never had summed up before;
        So the Snark undertook it instead,
   And summed it so well that it came to far more
        Than the Witnesses ever had said!

   When the verdict was called for, the Jury declined,
        As the word was so puzzling to spell;
   But they ventured to hope that the Snark wouldn't mind
        Undertaking that duty as well.

        -- Lewis Carroll, The Hunting of the Snark

'Snark', of course, is probably the greatest piece of nonsense literature
ever written; the full text is at
[broken link] http://www.geocities.com/~spanoudi/poems/carrol02.html

Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur -- Lewis Carroll

(Poem #409) Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur "How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once 'the very wish Partook of the sublime.' The tell me how! Don't put me off With your 'another time'!" The old man smiled to see him, To hear his sudden sally; He liked the lad to speak his mind Enthusiastically; And thought "There's no hum-drum in him, Nor any shilly-shally." "And would you be a poet Before you've been to school? Ah, well! I hardly thought you So absolute a fool. First learn to be spasmodic -- A very simple rule. "For first you write a sentence, And then you chop it small; Then mix the bits, and sort them out Just as they chance to fall: The order of the phrases makes No difference at all. 'Then, if you'd be impressive, Remember what I say, That abstract qualities begin With capitals alway: The True, the Good, the Beautiful -- Those are the things that pay! "Next, when we are describing A shape, or sound, or tint; Don't state the matter plainly, But put it in a hint; And learn to look at all things With a sort of mental squint." "For instance, if I wished, Sir, Of mutton-pies to tell, Should I say 'dreams of fleecy flocks Pent in a wheaten cell'?" "Why, yes," the old man said: "that phrase Would answer very well. "Then fourthly, there are epithets That suit with any word -- As well as Harvey's Reading Sauce With fish, or flesh, or bird -- Of these, 'wild,' 'lonely,' 'weary,' 'strange,' Are much to be preferred." "And will it do, O will it do To take them in a lump -- As 'the wild man went his weary way To a strange and lonely pump'?" "Nay, nay! You must not hastily To such conclusions jump. "Such epithets, like pepper, Give zest to what you write; And, if you strew them sparely, They whet the appetite: But if you lay them on too thick, You spoil the matter quite! "Last, as to the arrangement: Your reader, you should show him, Must take what information he Can get, and look for no im mature disclosure of the drift And purpose of your poem. "Therefore to test his patience -- How much he can endure -- Mention no places, names, or dates, And evermore be sure Throughout the poem to be found Consistently obscure. "First fix upon the limit To which it shall extend: Then fill it up with 'Padding' (Beg some of any friend) Your great SENSATION-STANZA You place towards the end." "And what is a Sensation, Grandfather, tell me, pray? I think I never heard the word So used before to-day: Be kind enough to mention one 'Exempli gratiâ'" And the old man, looking sadly Across the garden-lawn, Where here and there a dew-drop Yet glittered in the dawn, Said "Go to the Adelphi, And see the 'Colleen Bawn.' "The word is due to Boucicault -- The theory is his, Where Life becomes a Spasm, And History a Whiz: If that is not Sensation, I don't know what it is, "Now try your hand, ere Fancy Have lost its present glow --" "And then," his grandson added, "We'll publish it, you know: Green cloth -- gold-lettered at the back -- In duodecimo!" Then proudly smiled that old man To see the eager lad Rush madly for his pen and ink And for his blotting-pad -- But, when he thought of *publishing*, His face grew stern and sad. -- Lewis Carroll

The popularity of the Alice poems and The Hunting of the Snark has tended to
shadow the rest of Carroll's poetic output - indeed, apart from some
acrostics and puzzles in verse, this is the first other example I've seen.
And while it may lack the air of sheer inspired nonsense that characterises
the aforementioned works, it is in all other respects vintage Carroll - note
in particular the echoes of 'Father William' and 'The Walrus and the
Carpenter'.

Somewhat unusual (at least, I don't recall noticing it in his other work) is
the somewhat Gilbertish use of tricks with the rhyming words - the split of
'immature', the use of Latin, the straining of words like
'enthusiastically'. Also somewhat unusual was the rather weak ending -
superficially similar to that of Walrus or 'Hunting of the Snark', but
packing far less of a punch. Still, that doesn't detract much from the poem
as a whole, which was for the most part quite wickedly accurate.

Notes:

 The title means "A poet is made, not born" (Latin).

 spasmodic: tending towards emotional fits.

 exempli gratia: "An example, if you please" (Latin). [whence 'e.g.' - m.]

 The Adelphi is a London theatre; and The Coleen Bawn; or the Brides of
 Garryowen (1860) is a play by Boucicault, i.e., Dionysius Lardner
 (1822-90).

 duodecimo: twelvemo, that is, a book made up of twelve-page gatherings cut
 from single sheets.

        -- Representative Poetry Online
        http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/poems/carroll9.html

Links:

We've run a few Carroll poems in the past - see the archive for the complete
lot.

A biography can be found at poem #265

And for a poem similar in theme if not in execution, see Bierce's 'Rimer',
poem #320

- martin

The Walrus and the Carpenter -- Lewis Carroll

(Poem #347) 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. Out 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

I've said it before and I'll say it again: writing good nonsense verse
is _hard_... I don't know how Carroll manages to do it with such
consummate ease.

What I find especially interesting is the way Carroll plays with so many
different _kinds_ of nonsense. For instance, the opening stanza (my
favourite one, btw) of today's poem reads like a piece of juvenilia
straight out of a high-school poetry class (or, even worse, a Victorian
children's book) - that is, until the brilliantly deadpan final couplet
[1], which catches readers completely off-balance with its reversal of
all that is 'normal'.

Indeed, that final couplet sets the tone for the rest of the poem -
snippets like

'The Walrus and the Carpenter
  Were walking close at hand:
They wept like anything to see
  Such quantities of sand:'

and

'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.'

and of course the famous:

''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.''

are dazzling in their simplicity and sheer meaninglessness. And the
whole poem is written in the same vein - simple, matter-of-fact, and
utterly bizarre.

I suppose the key to Carroll's particular brand of lunacy is
_incongruity_. In 'Jabberwocky', the incongruity is verbal, with
invented words and strange constructions. In 'The Mad Gardener's Song',
the incongruity is one of non sequiturs. In today's poem, it's one of
situation. Each type is different (and difficult); yet each type is
handled to a nicety. Sheer genius.

thomas.

[Minstrels Links]

[1] I hadn't thought of it before, but yes, this does fit in nicely with
Martin's comments of Saturday - you can read them at poem #345

Jabberwocky: poem #52

The Mad Gardener's Song: poem #265

[End Note]

Those of you with good memories (or lots of disk space) will remember
that the Minstrels held a poetry-reading session in the Real World,
about a month ago, at the Crossword bookstore in Mumbai. It went off
pretty well (I thought), and plans are afoot to make it (the poetry
session) a monthly affair. If you're interested in attending the next
edition, do email me or Seema Bhatia (note the
double underscore) and we'll take it from there.

The Mad Gardener's Song -- Lewis Carroll

... no matter how many times I read this, it still makes me smile...

(Poem #265) The Mad Gardener's Song He thought he saw an Elephant, That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife. 'At length I realise,' he said, The bitterness of Life!' He thought he saw a Buffalo Upon the chimney-piece: He looked again, and found it was His Sister's Husband's Niece. 'Unless you leave this house,' he said, "I'll send for the Police!' He thought he saw a Rattlesnake That questioned him in Greek: He looked again, and found it was The Middle of Next Week. 'The one thing I regret,' he said, 'Is that it cannot speak!' He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk Descending from the bus: He looked again, and found it was A Hippopotamus. 'If this should stay to dine,' he said, 'There won't be much for us!' He thought he saw a Kangaroo That worked a coffee-mill: He looked again, and found it was A Vegetable-Pill. 'Were I to swallow this,' he said, 'I should be very ill!' He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four That stood beside his bed: He looked again, and found it was A Bear without a Head. 'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing! It's waiting to be fed!' He thought he saw an Albatross That fluttered round the lamp: He looked again, and found it was A Penny-Postage Stamp. 'You'd best be getting home,' he said: 'The nights are very damp!' He thought he saw a Garden-Door That opened with a key: He looked again, and found it was A Double Rule of Three: 'And all its mystery,' he said, 'Is clear as day to me!' He thought he saw a Argument That proved he was the Pope: He looked again, and found it was A Bar of Mottled Soap. 'A fact so dread,' he faintly said, 'Extinguishes all hope!' -- Lewis Carroll

Incongruity of this order is a high art. Indeed, it's astonishingly difficult to
pull off - there's more to it than just stringing random words together, as any
aspiring nonsense-poet will tell you. And today's poem is one of the very best -
whimsical, unexpected, even bizarre at times, yet consistently matter-of-fact
and deadpan - it's the tone of voice that does the trick, as much as the
incocngruity of the images.

As with the poems of Edward Lear (surely his only rival for the title of High
Priest of the Absurd), notice how simple Carroll's versification is - regular
iambic heptameters, simple masculine end-rhymes, and a well-defined template for
each stanza - the idea being to focus attention on the 'action' (such as it is),
not distract the reader with elaborate metaphors and complex metrical schemes.
That it works as it does is a tribute to Carroll's imagination.

Pope Thomas the First.

(Oops, that's Thomas the Freshly-Washed-In-Mottled-Soap, actually :-))

[Minstrels Links]

The canonical examples of nonsense poetry are Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky,
at poem #52 and Edward Lear's The Owl and the Pussy-Cat, at poem #165.

[Biography]

Lewis Carroll is the pseudonym of the English writer and mathematician Charles
Lutwidge Dodgson, b. Jan. 27, 1832, d. Jan. 14, 1898, known especially for
ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND (1865) and THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS (1872),
children's books that are also distinguished as satire and as examples of verbal
wit. Carroll invented his pen name by translating his first two names into the
Latin "Carolus Lodovicus" and then anglicizing it into "Lewis Carroll."

The son of a clergyman and the firstborn of 11 children, Carroll began at an
early age to entertain himself and his family with magic tricks, marionette
shows, and poems written for homemade newspapers. From 1846 to 1850 he attended
Rugby School; he graduated from Christ Church College, Oxford, in 1854. Carroll
remained there, lecturing on mathematics and writing treatises and guides for
students. Although he took deacon's orders in 1861, Carroll was never ordained a
priest, partly because he was afflicted with a stammer that made preaching
difficult and partly, perhaps, because he had discovered other interests.

Among Carroll's avocations was photography, at which he became proficient. He
excelled especially at photographing children. Alice Liddell, one of the three
daughters of Henry George Liddell, the dean of Christ Church, was one of his
photographic subjects and the model for the fictional Alice.

Carroll's comic and children's works also include The Hunting of the Snark
(1876), two collections of humorous verse, and the two parts of Sylvie and Bruno
(1889, 1893), unsuccessful attempts to re-create the Alice fantasies.

As a mathematician, Carroll was conservative and derivative. As a logician, he
was more interested in logic as a game than as an instrument for testing reason.
In his diversions as a photographer and author of comic fantasy, he is most
memorable and original--the man who, for example, contributed, in "Jabberwocky,"
the word chortle, a portmanteau word that combines "snort" and "chuckle," to the
English language.

    -- Donald Gray, http://www.insite.com.br/rodrigo/text/lewis_carroll.html

A more comprehensive bio can be found at [broken link] http://www.anova.org/carroll.html

Jabberwocky -- Lewis Carroll

Guest poem sent in by Rohit Grover

(Poem #52) 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 Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxnome 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 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

Annotations by Martin Gardner:

The OED lists "slithy" as a variant of "sleathy," an obsolete word meaning
slovenly, but later Humpty Dumpty gives "slithy" a different
interpretation.

"Toves" should be pronounced to rhyme with "groves," Carroll tells us in
his preface to The Hunting ot the Snark.

The OED traces "gyre" back to 1420 as a word meaning to turn or whirl
around. This agrees with Humpty Dumpty's interpretation.

According to the OED, "gimble" is a variant spelling of "gimbal." Gimbals
are pivoted rings used for various purposes, such as suspending a ship's
compass so that it remains horizontal while the ship rolls. Humpty Dumpty
makes it clear, however, that the verb "gimble" is here used in a
different sense.

"Mimsy" is the first of eight nonsense words in Jabberwocky that are used
again in The Hunting of the Snark. In Carroll's time, according to the
OED, "mimsey" meant "pring, prudish, contemptible." Perhaps Carroll had
this in mind.

In his preface to the Snark, Carroll writes: "The first 'o' in
'borogoves' is pronounced like the 'o' in 'borrow.' I have heard people
give it the sound of 'o' in 'worry.' Such is Human Perversity." The word
is commonly mispronounced 'borogroves' by Carroll novitiates, and this
misspelling even appears in some American editions of the book.

"Mome" has a number of obsolete meanings such as mother, a
blockhead, a carping critic, a buffoon, none of which,
judging from Humpty Dumpty's interpretation, Carroll had in mind.

According to Humpty Dumpty, a 'rath' is a green pig but in Carroll's day
it was a well known old Irish word for an enclosure, usually a circular
earthen wall, serving as a fort and place of residence for the head of a
tribe.

'Frumious' is composed of 'fuming' and 'furious.'

'Manx' was the Celtic name for the Isle of Man. Whether Carroll had this
in mind when he coined the word 'manxnome' is unknown.

'Tum-tum' was a common colloquialism in Carroll's day referring to the
sound of a stringed instrument, especially when monotonously strummed.

In a letter, Carroll wrote that 'uffish' suggested to him "a state of mind
when the voice is gruffish, the manner roughish and the temper huffish.

'Gallumph' - this Carrollian word has entered the OED as a combination of
'gallop' and 'triumphant,' meaning "to march on exultantly with irregular
bounding movements."

The OED traces the word 'beamish' back to 1530 as a variant of 'beaming.'

'Chortled' - A Carrollian word that has made its way into the OED, where
it is defined as a blend of 'chuckle' and 'snort.'