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Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll


I was asked what my favorite poem was and I can answer without any pause that it's the Jabberwocky by Lewis Caroll. It was originally in Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. I have no idea why I've loved this poem so much; it could be the use of made up verbs and adjectives. The pretty stellar thing about the language though is even though they're made up you still know exactly what the words mean. I love it. It's inventive and fun and actually has a pretty cool "hero's journey" meaning behind it just like any book usually has. To this day I have this same poem and picture hanging on my wall. It's there for me to see when I get up in the morning and go to bed at night or even sometimes when I need a pick me up. :)
Sincerely,
Miss Nae

`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, has 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.

1 comment:

  1. It's hard for me to conceive having a single favorite poem - poets are a bit easier, but not by much.

    I will say, though, that I want the last five lines of Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson to be read at a keg party when I die:

    We are not now that strength which in old days
    Moved earth and heaven;that which we are, we are;
    One equal temper of heroic hearts,
    Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
    To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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