The Hunting of the Snark: an Agony in Eight Fits Free
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FREE THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK: AN AGONY IN EIGHT FITS PDF Lewis Carroll | 100 pages | 15 Apr 2011 | The British Library Publishing Division | 9780712358132 | English | London, United Kingdom The hunting of the snark : an agony in eight fits Landseer, H. Last update: This is a mirrored and modified web edition of a file which originally has been published by eBooks Adelaide. You are free: to copy, distribute, display, and perform the work, and to make derivative works under the following conditions: you must attribute the work in the manner specified by the licensor; you may not use this work for commercial purposes; if you alter, transform, or build upon this work, you may distribute the resulting work only under a license identical to this one. For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the license terms of this work. Any of these conditions can be waived if you get permission from the licensor. Your fair use and other rights are in no way affected by the above. Please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter, from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can seem to yourself to hear wishing you, as I do now with all my heart, a happy Easter. Do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and the fresh breeze coming in at the open window—when, lying lazily with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving, or waters rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture or poem. And is not that a Mother's gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a Mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? To rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark—to rise and enjoy another happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend, who sends you the beautiful sun? Are these strange words from a writer of such tales as "Alice"? And is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? It may be so. Some perhaps may blame me The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits thus mixing together things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on a Sunday: but I think—nay, I am sure—that some children will read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit in which I have written it. For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two halves —to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you think He cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer—and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children, as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits up from the "dim religious light" of some solemn cathedral? And if I have written anything to add to those stores of innocent and healthy amusement that are laid up in books for the children I love so well, it is The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits something I may hope to look back upon without shame and sorrow as how much of life must then be recalled! This Easter sun will rise on you, dear child, feeling your "life in every limb," and eager to rush out into the fresh morning air—and many an Easter- day will come and go, before it finds you feeble and gray-headed, creeping wearily out to bask once more in the sunlight—but it is good, even now, to think sometimes of that great morning when the "Sun of Righteousness The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits arise with healing in his wings. Surely your gladness need not be the less for the thought that you will one day see a brighter dawn than this—when lovelier sights will meet your eyes than any waving trees or rippling waters—when angel-hands shall undraw your curtains, and sweeter tones than ever loving Mother breathed shall wake you to a The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits and glorious day—and when all the sadness, and the sin, that darkened life on this little earth, shall be forgotten like the dreams of a night that is past! A way, fond thoughts, and vex my soul no more! If—and the thing is wildly possible—the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line in p. In view of this painful possibility, I will not as I might appeal indignantly to my other writings as The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits proof that I am incapable of such a deed: I will not as I might point to the strong moral purpose of this poem itself, to the arithmetical principles so cautiously inculcated in it, or to its noble teachings in Natural History—I will take the more prosaic course of simply explaining how it happened. The Bellmanwho was almost morbidly sensitive about appearances, used to have the bowsprit unshipped once or twice a week to be revarnished, and it more than once happened, when the time came for replacing it, that no one on board could remember which end of the ship it belonged to. They knew it was not of the slightest use to appeal to the Bellman about it— he would only refer to his Naval Code, and read out in pathetic tones Admiralty Instructions which none of them had ever been able to understand— so it generally ended in its being fastened on, anyhow, across the rudder. The helmsman 1 used to stand by with tears in his eyes; he knew it was all wrong, but alas! During these bewildering intervals the ship usually sailed backwards. Such is Human Perversity. This also seems a fitting occasion to notice the other hard words in that poem. Now open your mouth and speak. Speak or die! Not even a shriek! London : Macmillan,published on-line by:. Last updated Sat Jan 13 PREFACE If—and the thing is wildly possible—the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line in p. Concept is divorced from percept, and thought moves among abstractions. Our eyes have been reduced to instruments with which to identify and to measure; hence we suffer a paucity of ideas that can be expressed in images and in an incapacity to discover meaning in what we see. Naturally we feel lost in the presence of objects that make sense only to undeluted vision, and we seek refuge in the more familiar medium of words. The inborn capacity to understand through the eyes has been put to sleep and must be reawakened. Carroll The Hunting of the Snark | poem by Carroll | Britannica The fanciful eight-canto poem describes the sea voyage of a bellman, boots bootblackbonnet maker, barristerbroker, billiard marker, banker, beaverbaker, and butcher and their search for the elusive undefined snark. A dedicatory poem that Carroll attached to the work contained an acrostic on the name of his then-favourite child friend, Gertrude Chataway, whose name is also found in the first words of each stanza of the poem: Girt, Rude, Chat, Away. While scholars have attributed to the work hidden meanings from political subversion to existential agony, Carroll maintained that it was intended simply as nonsense. Home Literature Poetry. Print Cite. Facebook Twitter. Give Feedback External Websites. Let us know if you have suggestions to improve this article requires login. External Websites. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica Encyclopaedia Britannica's editors oversee subject areas in which they have extensive knowledge, whether from years of experience gained by working on that content or via study for an advanced degree See Article History. Britannica Quiz. Lyric The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits take their name from The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits musical instrument. Learn More in these related Britannica articles:. His poem The Hunting of the Snark is nonsense literature of the highest order. In the poem, the elusive Snark turns out to be a mysterious monster called a Boojum. 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