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Poem by Lewis Carroll


The Hunting of the Snark. Fit the Fifth. The Beavers Lesson


They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; 
  	They pursued it with forks and hope; 
They threatened its life with a railway-share; 
  	They charmed it with smiles and soap. 

Then the Butcher contrived an ingenious plan 
  	For making a separate sally; 
And had fixed on a spot unfrequented by man, 
  	A dismal and desolate valley. 

But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred: 
  	It had chosen the very same place: 
Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word, 
  	The disgust that appeared in his face. 

Each thought he was thinking of nothing but Snark 
  	And the glorious work of the day; 
And each tried to pretend that he did not remark 
  	That the other was going that way. 

But the valley grew narrow and narrower still, 
  	And the evening got darker and colder, 
Till (merely from nervousness, not from goodwill) 
  	They marched along shoulder to shoulder. 

Then a scream, shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky, 
  	And they knew that some danger was near: 
The Beaver turned pale to the tip of its tail, 
  	And even the Butcher felt queer. 

He thought of his childhood, left far far behind   
  	That blissful and innocent state   
The sound so exactly recalled to his mind 
  	A pencil that squeaks on a slate! 

Tis the voice of the Jubjub! he suddenly cried. 
  	(This man, that they used to call Dunce.) 
As the Bellman would tell you, he added with pride, 
  	"I have uttered that sentiment once. 

Tis the note of the Jubjub! Keep count, I entreat; 
  	You will find I have told it you twice. 
Tis the song of the Jubjub! The proof is complete, 
  	If only Ive stated it thrice. 

The Beaver had counted with scrupulous care, 
  	Attending to every word: 
But it fairly lost heart, and outgrabe in despair, 
  	When the third repetition occurred. 

It felt that, in spite of all possible pains, 
  	It had somehow contrived to lose count, 
And the only thing now was to rack its poor brains 
  	By reckoning up the amount. 

Two added to one  if that could but be done, 
  	It said, with ones fingers and thumbs! 
Recollecting with tears how, in earlier years, 
  	It had taken no pains with its sums. 

The thing can be done, said the Butcher, I think. 
  	The thing must be done, I am sure. 
The thing shall be done! Bring me paper and ink, 
  	The best there is time to procure. 

The Beaver brought paper, portfolio, pens, 
  	And ink in unfailing supplies: 
While strange creepy creatures came out of their dens, 
  	And watched them with wondering eyes. 

So engrossed was the Butcher, he heeded them not, 
  	As he wrote with a pen in each hand, 
And explained all the while in a popular style 
  	Which the Beaver could well understand. 

Taking Three as the subject to reason about   
  	A convenient number to state   
We add Seven, and Ten, and then multiply out 
  	By One Thousand diminished by Eight. 

The result we proceed to divide, as you see, 
  	By Nine Hundred and Ninety and Two: 
Then subtract Seventeen, and the answer must be 
  	Exactly and perfectly true. 

The method employed I would gladly explain, 
  	While I have it so clear in my head, 
If I had but the time and you had but the brain   
  	But much yet remains to be said. 

In one moment Ive seen what has hitherto been 
  	Enveloped in absolute mystery, 
And without extra charge I will give you at large 
  	A Lesson in Natural History. 

In his genial way he proceeded to say 
  	(Forgetting all laws of propriety, 
And that giving instruction, without introduction, 
  	Would have caused quite a thrill in Society), 

As to temper the Jubjubs a desperate bird, 
  	Since it lives in perpetual passion: 
Its taste in costume is entirely absurd   
  	It is ages ahead of the fashion: 

"But it knows any friend it has met once before: 
  	It never will look at a bride: 
And in charity-meetings it stands at the door, 
  	And collects  though it does not subscribe. 

Its flavour when cooked is more exquisite far 
  	Than mutton, or oysters, or eggs: 
(Some think it keeps best in an ivory jar, 
  	And some, in mahogany kegs:) 

You boil it in sawdust: you salt it in glue: 
  	You condense it with locusts and tape: 
Still keeping one principal object in view   
  	To preserve its symmetrical shape. 

The Butcher would gladly have talked till next day, 
  	But he felt that the Lesson must end, 
And he wept with delight in attempting to say 
  	He considered the Beaver his friend. 

While the Beaver confessed, with affectionate looks 
  	More eloquent even than tears, 
It had learned in ten minutes far more than all books 
  	Would have taught it in seventy years. 

They returned hand-in-hand, and the Bellman, unmanned 
  	(For a moment) with noble emotion, 
Said This amply repays all the wearisome days 
  	We have spent on the billowy ocean! 

Such friends, as the Beaver and Butcher became, 
  	Have seldom if ever been known; 
In winter or summer, twas always the same   
  	You could never meet either alone. 

And when quarrels arose  as one frequently finds 
  	Quarrels will, spite of every endeavour   
The song of the Jubjub recurred to their minds, 
  	And cemented their friendship for ever!



Lewis Carroll


Lewis Carroll's other poems:
  1. The Elections to the Hebdomadal Council
  2. The Wandering Burgess
  3. What Tottles Meant
  4. The Deserted Parks
  5. Theme with Variations


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