Prologue to Alice

By Carroll, Lewis

Book Id: WPLBN0000577668
Format Type: PDF eBook
File Size: 146,424 KB.
Reproduction Date: 2007

Title:	Prologue to Alice
Author:	Carroll, Lewis
Volume:
Language:	English
Subject:	Fiction, Poetry, Verse drama
Collections:	Poetry Collection
Historic Publication Date:
Publisher:	World Public Library Association


Citation APA MLA Chicago Carroll, L. (n.d.). Prologue to Alice. Retrieved from http://self.gutenberg.org/

Description
Poetry

Excerpt
Excerpt: 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 pretence // 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&xclm. // 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 Childhoood's dreams are twined // In Memory's mystic band, // Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers // Pluck'd in a far-off land. // 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 // 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? // 2 // Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs. // Lewis Carroll // Speak roughly to your little boy... // SPEAK roughly to your little boy, // And beat him when he sneezes; // He only does it to annoy, // Because he knows it teases. // Cho.- Wow! wow! wow! // I speak severely to my boy, // And beat him when he sneezes: // For he can thoroughly enjoy // The pepper when ye pleases! // Cho. // 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 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 joint the dance? // Lewis Carroll // 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, // 3 // While the Old 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 // 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 // Prologue to 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 // 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, // With bitter tidings laden, // Shall summon to unwelcome bed // 4 // 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: // 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. // Lewis Carroll // 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 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 // 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 // The Walrus and the Carpenter // The sun was shining on the sea, // 5 // 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?' // 'l 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, // 6 // 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 // 7 // 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 // The 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 // 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 // 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!' // nd thumped him on the head. // is 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 // 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, // 'And what it is you do!' // 8 // 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. // 'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, // Or set limed twigs for crabs: // I sometimes search the grassy knolls // For wheels of Hansom-cabs. // And that's the way' (he gave a wink) // 'By which I get my wealth - // And very gladly will I drink // Your Honour's noble health.' // I heard him then, for I had just // Completed my design // To keep the Menai bridge from rust // By boiling it in wine. // I thanked him much for telling me // The way he got his wealth, // But chiefly for his wish that he // Might drink my noble health. // And now, if e'er by chance I put // My fingers into glue, // Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot // Into a left-hand shoe, // Or if I drop upon my toe // A very heavy weight, // I weep, for it reminds me so // Of that old man I used to know - // Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow // Whose hair was whiter than the snow, // Whose face was very like a crow, // With eyes, like cinders, all aglow, // Who seemed distracted with his woe, // Who rocked his body to and fro, // And muttered mumblingly and low, // As if his mouth were full of dough, // Who snorted like a buffalo- // That summer evening long ago, // A-sitting on a gate. // Lewis Carroll // Epilogue to Looking Glass // A BOAT, beneath a sunny sky // Lingering onward dreamily // In an evening of July - // Children three that nestle near, // 9 // 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 gleam - // Life what is it but a dream?