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 Slave's Dream -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Guest poem sent in by Rajarshi Bandyopadhyay

(Poem #629) The Slave's Dream Beside the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land. Wide through the landscape of his dreams The lordly Niger flowed; Beneath the palm-trees on the plain Once more a king he strode; And heard the tinkling caravans Descend the mountain-road. He saw once more his dark-eyed queen Among her children stand; They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, They held him by the hand!-- A tear burst from the sleeper's lids And fell into the sand. And then at furious speed he rode Along the Niger's bank; His bridle-reins were golden chains, And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Smiting his stallion's flank. Before him, like a blood-red flag, The bright flamingoes flew; >From morn till night he followed their flight, O'er plains where the tamarind grew, Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts, And the ocean rose to view. At night he heard the lion roar, And the hyena scream, And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds Beside some hidden stream; And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums, Through the triumph of his dream. The forests, with their myriad tongues, Shouted of liberty; And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud, With a voice so wild and free, That he started in his sleep and smiled At their tempestuous glee. He did not feel the driver's whip, Nor the burning heat of day; For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, And his lifeless body lay A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken and thrown away! -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

For some reason, 'Reverie of Mahomed...Tank' reminded me of another dream
poem, 'The Slave's Dream' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I guess it is the
same idea of the poet trying to 'live' another person's feelings, especially
a person from a different culture/race. [An interesting twist to the theme,
and not one I'd thought of -m.]

I think 'The Slave's dream' is a great poem because of the way it draws the
reader emotionally into itself...and the way it seems to control the
emotions. Initially we feel pity, sadness, at the present condition of the
slave, and then the nostalgic feeling of pride and glory when he thinks of
his royal past. And finally, it ends on a note of triumph and hope.

-Raj

Links:

Hope's 'Reverie of Mahomed' was part of the current 'Dream' theme: poem #627

For a biography of Longfellow, see poem #172