The Poetry Collections of Lewis Carroll. Lewis Carroll
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Название: The Poetry Collections of Lewis Carroll
Автор: Lewis Carroll
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066443832
isbn:
And as to his name it is pretty clear That it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you!
And so it fell upon a day,
(That is, it never rose again) A chick was found upon the hay,
Its little life had ebbed away.
No longer frolicsome and gay,
No longer could it run or play.
“And must we, chicken, must we part?”
Its master(29) cried with bursting heart, And voice of agony and pain.
So one, whose ticket’s marked “Return,”(30)
When to the lonely roadside station
He flies in fear and perturbation,
Thinks of his home—the hissing urn—
Then runs with flying hat and hair,
And, entering, finds to his despair
He’s missed the very latest train.(31)
Too long it were to tell of each conjecture Of chicken suicide, and poultry victim, The deadly frown, the stern and dreary lecture, The timid guess, “perhaps some needle pricked him!”
The din of voice, the words both loud and many, The sob, the tear, the sigh that none could smother, Till all agreed “a shilling to a penny
It killed itself, and we acquit the mother!”
Scarce was the verdict spoken, When that still calm was broken, A childish form hath burst into the throng; With tears and looks of sadness, That bring no news of gladness, But tell too surely something hath gone wrong!
“The sight that I have come upon
The stoutest heart(32) would sicken, That nasty hen has been and gone
And killed another chicken!”
Lays of Sorrow No. 2
Fair stands the ancient(33) Rectory, The Rectory of Croft,
The sun shines bright upon it,
The breezes whisper soft.
From all the house and garden,
Its inhabitants come forth,
And muster in the road without,
And pace in twos and threes about,
The children of the North.
Some are waiting in the garden,
Some are waiting at the door,
And some are following behind,
And some have gone before.
But wherefore all this mustering?
Wherefore this vast array?
A gallant feat of horsemanship
Will be performed to-day.
To eastward and to westward,
The crowd divides amain,
Two youths are leading on the steed,
Both tugging at the rein;
And sorely do they labour,
For the steed(34) is very strong, And backward moves its stubborn feet,
And backward ever doth retreat,
And drags its guides along.
And now the knight hath mounted,
Before the admiring band,
Hath got the stirrups on his feet,
The bridle in his hand.
Yet, oh! beware, sir horseman!
And tempt thy fate no more,
For such a steed as thou hast got
Was never rid before!
The rabbits bow before thee,
And cower in the straw;
The chickens(35) are submissive, And own thy will for law;
Bullfinches and canary
Thy bidding do obey;
And e’en the tortoise in its shell
Doth never say thee nay.
But thy steed will hear no master,
Thy steed will bear no stick,
And woe to those that beat her,
And woe to those that kick!(36)
For though her rider smite her,
As hard as he can hit,
And strive to turn her from the yard,
She stands in silence, pulling hard
Against the pulling bit.
And now the road to Dalton
Hath felt their coming tread,
The crowd are speeding on before,
And all have gone ahead.
Yet often look they backward,
And cheer him on, and bawl,
For slower still, and still more slow,
That horseman and that charger go, And scarce advance at all.
And now two roads to choose from
Are in that rider’s sight:
In front the road to Dalton,
And New Croft upon the right.
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