“At the Theatre: To the Lady Behind Me” by A.P. Herbert and “Remember” by Christina Rossetti
Commonplace Book – Pages 109-110
At the Theatre: To the Lady Behind Me by A.P. Herbert
Dear Madam, you have seen this play;
I never saw it till today.
You know the details of the plot,
But, let me tell you, I do not.
The author seeks to keep from me
The murderer’s identity,
And you are not a friend of his
If you keep shouting who it is.
The actors in their funny way
Have several funny things to say,
But they do not amuse me more
If you have said them just before;
The merit of the drama lies,
I understand, in some surprise;
But the surprise must now be small
Since you have just foretold it all.
The lady you have brought with you
Is, I infer, a half-wit too,
But I can understand the piece
Without assistance from your niece.
In short, foul woman, it would suit
Me just as well if you were mute;
In fact, to make my meaning plain,
I trust you will not speak again.
And may I add one human touch?-
Don’t breath upon my neck so much.
Remember by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
“My Library” by Lucy Maud Montgomery and “The Grave” – 13 century
Commonplace Book – Pages 108-109
My Library by Lucy Maud Montgomery
It is small and dim and shabby – just one old, low-corniced room,
With the plaster stained and broken and the corners lost in gloom:
And one square, uncurtained window, where a sea-born sunset shines
In a glow of chastened splendor though grand cathedral pines.
But ’tis dear and sacred to me, plain and dusky tho’ it be.
For the best of friends and comrades hither come to meet with me.
And I welcome them right gladly when the lingering daylight falls
On the old, familiar faces of my books along the walls.
Matchless tales of lands far distant, ballads of an olden day,
Full of fire and faith and fervor that no time can steal away:
Songs of many gracious poets: rare old essays richly blent
With the legendary lore of orient and occident:
Tales of wonderful adventures in the merry years of yore,
And of half-forgotten battles lost and won by sea and shore;
Classic myth and stately epic, born of earth-old joy or pain-
All the centuries have left us, I may gather here again.
Here with hosts of friends I revel who can never change or chill;
Though the fleeting years and seasons they are fair and faithful still!
Kings and courtiers, knights and jesters, belles and beaux of far away,
Meet and mingle with the beauties and the heroes of to-day.
All the lore of ancient sages, all the light of souls divine,
All the music, wit and wisdom of the gray old world is mine,
Garnered here where fall the shadows of the mystic pineland’s gloom!
And I sway an airy kingdom from my little book-lined room.
The Grave – 13th Century
For thee was a house built
Ere thou wert born;
For thee was a mold meant
Ere thou of mother cam’st
But it is not made ready
Nor its depth measured,
Nor is it seen
How long it shall be.
Now I bring thee
Where thou shalt be
And I shall measure thee
And the mold afterward.
Doorless is that house
And dark is it within;
There thou art fast detained
And death hath the key
Loathsome is that earth-house
And grim within to dwell,
And worms shall divide thee.
“Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll and Excerpt from “What Pleases the Ladies” by Voltaire
Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll
‘Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
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 manxnome 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 whiffing 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 frabjou 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.
Lines 415-419 of What Pleases the Ladies by Voltaire
O happy times of faerie deed,
Of elves and sprites and stories tall,
And kindly spirits tending mortal need.
People heard these marvellous tales and believed,
Seated round the hearth in every castle hall:
The chaplain was the teller, and father, mother,
Friend and daughter, neighbor, brother,
Listened rapt: for how could interest pall?
No matter what the fable, it held them in its thrall.
And now they’re banished spirits, fairies too,
Reason rules, a story must be true.
But the heart grows dull in a world of grey,
Where sense and logic may not brook demure,
And correctness is the order of the day.
Believe me when I say: it can be right to err.
“English Monarchs” by Anonymous and “How Doth the Little Crocodile” by Lewis Carroll
Commonplace Book – Page 105
English Monarchs by Anonymous
Willie Willie Henry Stee
Harry Dick John Harry three;
One two three Neds, Richard two
Harrys four five six…then who?
Edwards four five, Dick the bad,
Harrys (twain), Ned six (the lad);
Mary, Bessie, James you Ken,
Then Charlie, Charlie, James again…
Will and Mary, Anna Gloria,
Georges four, Will four Victoria;
Edward seven next, and then
Came George the fifth in nineteen ten;
Ned the eighth soon abdicated
Then George six was coronated;
After which was Elizabeth
And that’s all folks until her death.
How Doth the Little Crocodile by Lewis Carroll
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 welcome little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!
