Lewis Carroll

“ Bands cannot always play, nor ladies smile:
Endure with patience the distasteful fun
For just a little while!”
A change came o’er my Vision—it was night:
We clove a pathway through a frantic throng:
The steeds, wild-plunging, filled us with affright:
The chariots whirled along. ”

“ 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 he howls outright—
⁠Cruel, but all very well for a spree:
Suppose that he did so day and night,
⁠That would be like the Sea. ”

“ Old knuckles tapping at the door?
"Yet still before him as he flies
One pallid form shall ever rise,
And, bodying forth in glassy eyes
"The vision of a vanished good,
Low peering through the tangled wood,
Shall freeze the current of his blood." ”

“ You just be handy with a stick,
(Mind that it's pretty hard and thick,)
And rap him on the knuckles!
"Then carelessly remark 'Old coon!
Perhaps you're not aware
That, if you don't behave, you'll soon
Be chuckling to another tune—
And so you'd best take care!"
"That's the right way to cure a Sprite
Of such-like goings-on—
But, gracious me! It's nearly light!
Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!" ”

“ Echo still the joyful sound
'Peace on earth, good will to men!'
Yet the hearts must child-like be
Where such heavenly guests abide:
Unto children in their glee
All the year is Christmas-tide! ”

“ Whose blue eyes are deep fountains of light,
Cheering the poet that broodeth apart,
Filling with gladness his desolate heart,
Like the moon when she shines thro' a cloudless night
On a world of silence and shade. ”

“ The heaving of the sullen main.
Though heaviness endure the night,
Yet joy shall come with break of day;
She shudders with a strange delight—
The fearful dream is pass'd away.
She wakes; the grey dawn streaks the dark ”

“ Who let the dream of bliss denied
Make havoc of our life and powers,
And pine, in solitary pride,
For peace that never shall be ours,
Because we will not work and wait
In trustful patience for our fate. ”

“ And thrust for ever from his mind
The happiness he could not find.
As when the wretch, in lonely room,
To selfish death is madly hurled,
The glamour of that fatal fume
Shuts out the wholesome living world—
So all his manhood's strength and pride
One sickly dream had swept aside ”

“ AFTER THREE DAYS.
[Written after visiting Holman Hunt's picture of 'Christ in the Temple.']
I stood within the gate
Of a great temple, 'midst the living stream
Of worshippers that thronged its regal state
Fair pictured in my dream.
Jewels and gold were there;
And floors of marble lent a crystal sheen
To body forth, as in a lower air,
The wonders of the scene.
Such wild and lavish grace
Had whispers in it of a coming doom;
As richest flowers lie strown about the face
Of her that waits the tomb. ”

“ Dyscomfyture As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:
Yet, having once begun to try,
Dares not desert his quest,
But, climbing, ever keeps his eye
On one small hut against the sky
Wherein he hopes to rest:
Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,
With many a puff and pant:
Who still, as rises the ascent,
In language grows more violent,
Although in breath more scant:
Who, climbing, gains at length the place
That crowns the upward track. ”

“ I kissed her dainty finger-tips,
I kissed her on the lily brow,
I kissed her on the false, false lips—
That burning kiss, I feel it now!
"True love gives true love of the best:
Then take," I cried, "my heart to thee!" ”

“ And deck life's drear and barren scene
With hues of rainbow light.
For what to man the gift of breath,
If sorrow be his lot below;
If all the day that ends in death
Be dark with clouds of woe? ”

“ And she arose, and in that darkening room
Stood lonely as a spirit of the night—
Stood calm and fearless in the gathered night—
And raised her eyes to heaven. There were tears
Upon her face, but in her heart was peace,
Peace that the world nor gives nor takes away! ”

“ 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
Stirred by the wandering breath of morn—
The happy spot where I was born. ”

“ A child's bright tresses, by the breezes kissed
To sweet disorder as she flies,
Veiling beneath a cloud of golden mist
Flushed cheek and laughing eyes—
Or fringing like a shadow, raven-black,
The glory of a queen-like face—
Or from a gipsy's sunny brow tossed back
In wild and wanton grace—
Or crown-like on the hoary head of Age,
Whose tale of life is well-nigh told—
Or, last, in dreams I make my pilgrimage
To Bethany of old. ”

“ My son, there comes to each an hour
⁠When sinks the spirit's pride—
When weary hands forget their power
⁠The strokes of death to guide:
In such a moment, warriors say,
A word the panic rout may stay,
A sudden charge redeem the day
⁠And turn the living tide. ”

“ But I was not the same.
They call me mad; I smile, I weep,
Uncaring how or why:
Yea, when one's heart is laid asleep,
What better than to die?
So that the grave be dark and deep.
To die! To die? ”

“ He could not answer yea or nay;
He faltered "Gifts may pass away."
Yet knew not what he meant to say.
"If that be so," she straight replied,
"Each heart with each doth coincide.
What boots it? For the world is wide." ”

“ A little whisper inly slid;
"Yet truth is truth: you know you did—"
A little wink beneath the lid.
And, sickened with excess of dread,
Prone to the dust he bent his head,
And lay like one three-quarters dead. ”

“ Low spake the voice within his head,
In words imagined more than said,
Soundless as ghost's intended tread:
"If thou art duller than before,
Why quittedst thou the voice of lore?
Why not endure, expecting more?" ”

“ A ghost is not a dumb thing—
But pray sit down—you'll feel inclined
(If, like myself, you have not dined)
To take a snack of something:
" (Though, certainly, you don't appear
A thing to offer food to) ”

“ Why is it that Poetry has never yet been subjected to that process of Dilution which has proved so advantageous to her sister-art Music? The Diluter gives us first a few notes of some well-known Air, then a dozen bars of his own, then a few more notes of the Air, and so on alternately: thus saving the listener, if not from all risk of recognising the melody at all, at least from the too-exciting transports which it might produce in a more concentrated form. ”

“ Will not endure to dance without cessation;
And every one must reach the point at length
Of absolute prostration.
At such a moment ladies learn to give,
To partners who would urge them over-much,
A flat and yet decided negative—
Photographers love such.
There comes a welcome summons—hope revives,
And fading eyes grow bright, and pulses quicken:
Incessant pop the corks, and busy knives
Dispense the tongue and chicken.
p. 156Flushed with new life, the crowd flows back again:
And all is tangled talk and mazy motion—
Much like a waving field of golden grain,
Or a tempestuous ocean. ”

“ Any fairly practised writer, with the slightest ear for rhythm, could compose, for hours together, in the easy running metre of ‘The Song of Hiawatha.’ Having, then, distinctly stated that I challenge no attention in the following little poem to its merely verbal jingle, I must beg the candid reader to confine his criticism to its treatment of the subject. ”

“ I was stung by a look, I was slain by a tear, by a
⁠tempest of sighs.
⁠And I whispered "I guess
⁠The sweet secret thou keepest,
⁠And the dainty distress
⁠That thou wistfully weepest;
And the question is 'License or banns?' though
⁠undoubtedly banns are the cheapest." ”

“ Each feebly huddled on a chair,
In attitudes of blank despair:
Oysters were not more mute than they,
For all their brains were pumped away,
And they had nothing more to say -
Save one, who groaned "Three hours are gone!" ”

“ Those locks of jet are turned to gray,
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. ”

“ Pierced slowly through the darkness, orbed, and grew,
Until all passed away—the ancient room—
The sunlight dying through the trellised vine—
The one tall window—all had passed away,
And she was standing on the mighty hills. ”

“ A VALENTINE.
[To a friend at Radley College, who had complained 'that I was glad enough to see him when he came, but did not seem to miss him if he stayed away.']
And cannot pleasures, while they last,
Be actual, unless, when past,
They leave us shuddering and aghast,
⁠With anguish smarting?
And cannot friends be fond and fast,
⁠And yet bear parting? ”

“ If not exactly in the sky,
Yet at a fairish height."
"It's very well," he said, "for kings
To fly above the earth:
But Phantoms often find that wings,
Like many other pleasant things,
Cost more than they are worth. ”

“ "That narrow window, I expect,
Serves but to let the dusk in—"
I cried "But please to recollect
'Twas fashioned by an architect
Who pinned his faith on Ruskin!" ”

“ Beneath the Willow tree.
"O Willow gray, I may not stay
Till Spring renew thy leaf,
But I will hide myself away,
And nurse a hopeless grief.
It shall not dim life's joy for him,
My tears he shall not see ”

“ Farewell, farewell, my tea and toast,
My meerschaum and cigars!
'The hues of life are dull and gray,
The sweets of life insipid,
When thou, my charmer, art away—
Old brick, or rather, let me say,
Old parallelepiped!'
Instead of singing verse the third,
I ceased ”

“ In every way, to fear the light,
As men to fear the dark."
"No plea," said I, "can well excuse
Such cowardice in you:
For ghosts can visit when they choose,
Whereas we humans can't refuse
To grant the interview." ”

“ Those parting words, so kindly said,
“Old Turnip-top, good-night!”
p. 58ECHOES Lady Clara Vere de Vere
Was eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.
She took her little porringer:
Of me she shall not win renown:
For the baseness of its nature shall have strength to drag her down.
“Sisters and brothers, little Maid?
There stands the Inspector at thy door:
Like a dog, he hunts for boys who know not two and two are four.” ”

“ The tastes of people differ so,
Especially in Sprites."
The Phantom shook his head and smiled:
"Consult them? Not a bit!
'Twould be a job to drive one wild,
To satisfy one single child—
There'd be no end to it!" ”

“ My dismal sister! Couldst thou know
⁠The wretched home thou keepest!
Thy brother, drowned in daily woe,
⁠Is thankful when thou sleepest;
For if I laugh, however low,
⁠When thou'rt awake, thou weepest! ”

“ The dying crimson of the west,
That faintly tinged his haggard cheek,
Fell on her as she stood, and shed
A glory round the patient head. ”

“ My soul within me seemed to melt
In sweet delirious pain.
"Sweet is the stolen draught," she said;
"Hath sweetness stint or measure?
Pleasant the secret hoard of bread;
What bars us from our pleasure?" ”

“ And One (we name him not) that flies the flowers,
That dreads the dances, and that shuns the salads,
They doom to pass in solitude the hours,
Writing acrostic-ballads.
How late it grows! The hour is surely past
That should have warned us with its double knock?
p. 157The twilight wanes, and morning comes at last—
“Oh, Uncle, what’s o’clock?” ”

“ 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. ”

“ You're growing stout!"
(I told you he would find me out!)
"My growth is not your business, Sir!"
⁠"No more it is, my boy!
But if it's yours, as I infer,
⁠Why, Brown, I give you joy!
A man whose business prospers so
Is just the sort of man to know! ”

“ The light was faint, and soft the air
That breathed around the place;
And she was lithe, and tall, and fair,
And with a wayward grace
Her queenly head she bare. ”