
Melancholetta and A Valentine
Two of several poems by author Lewis Carroll.
by Lewis Carroll.
enjoy the read and winter solstice time no matter who you are.
Kid Friendly Stories
UHD book reading video TBA
Short story (coffee break bite)
UHD book reading video TBA
Short story (coffee break bite)
A ghastly coffee break bite poem x 2, by Lewis Carroll. Suitable for those times while you patiently wait for your coffee to cool down.
Enjoy the read and day.
Photography and web adaptation by Mike Koontz
2016, a Norse View Imaging and Publishing
Music of the day
Lighthouse Eternal by Netherbird
To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration
Enjoy the read and day.
Photography and web adaptation by Mike Koontz
2016, a Norse View Imaging and Publishing
Music of the day
Lighthouse Eternal by Netherbird
To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration
Melancholetta - Poems By Lewis Carroll
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Melancholetta
The bridge of grief
With saddest music all day long
She soothed her secret sorrow:
At night she sighed “I fear ’twas wrong
Such cheerful words to borrow.
Dearest, a sweeter, sadder song
I’ll sing to thee tomorrow.”
I thanked her, but I could not say
That I was glad to hear it:
I left the house at break of day,
And did not venture near it
Till time, I hoped, had worn away
Her grief, for nought could cheer it!
My dismal sister! Couldst thou know
The wretched home thou keepest!
Thy brother, drowned in daily woe,
Is thankful when thou sleepest;
For if I laugh, however low,
When thou’rt awake, thou weepest!
I took my sister t’other day
(Excuse the slang expression)
To Sadler’s Wells to see the play
In hopes the new impression
Might in her thoughts, from grave to gay
Effect some slight digression.
I asked three gay young dogs from town
To join us in our folly,
Whose mirth, I thought, might serve to drown
My sister’s melancholy:
The lively Jones, the sportive Brown,
And Robinson the jolly.
The maid announced the meal in tones
That I myself had taught her,
Meant to allay my sister’s moans
Like oil on troubled water:
I rushed to Jones, the lively Jones,
And begged him to escort her.
Vainly he strove, with ready wit,
To joke about the weather —
To ventilate the last ‘ON DIT’ —
To quote the price of leather —
She groaned “Here I and Sorrow sit:
Let us lament together!”
I urged “You’re wasting time, you know:
Delay will spoil the venison.”
“My heart is wasted with my woe!
There is no rest — in Venice, on
The Bridge of Sighs!” she quoted low
From Byron and from Tennyson.
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I need not tell of soup and fish
In solemn silence swallowed,
The sobs that ushered in each dish,
And its departure followed,
Nor yet my suicidal wish
To BE the cheese I hollowed.
Some desperate attempts were made
To start a conversation;
“Madam,” the sportive Brown essayed,
“Which kind of recreation,
Hunting or fishing, have you made
Your special occupation?”
Her lips curved downwards instantly,
As if of india-rubber.
“Hounds IN FULL CRY I like,” said she:
(Oh how I longed to snub her!)
“Of fish, a whale’s the one for me,
IT IS SO FULL OF BLUBBER!”
The night’s performance was “King John.”
“It’s dull,” she wept, “and so-so!”
Awhile I let her tears flow on,
She said they soothed her woe so!
At length the curtain rose upon
‘Bombastes Furioso.’
In vain we roared; in vain we tried
To rouse her into laughter:
Her pensive glances wandered wide
From orchestra to rafter —
“TIER UPON TIER!” she said, and sighed;
And silence followed after.

A visit intended
[ "sent to a friend
who had complained
that I was
glad to see him
but did not
miss him
if he stayed away" ]
And cannot pleasures, while they last,
Be actual unless, when past,
They leave us shuddering and aghast,
With anguish smarting?
And cannot friends be firm and fast,
And yet bear parting?
And must I then, at Friendship’s call,
Calmly resign the little all
(Trifling, I grant, it is and small)
I have of gladness,
And lend my being to the thrall
Of gloom and sadness?
And think you that I should be dumb,
And full dolorum omnium,
Excepting when YOU choose to come
And share my dinner?
At other times be sour and glum
And daily thinner?
Must he then only live to weep,
Who’d prove his friendship true and deep
By day a lonely shadow creep,
At night-time languish,
Oft raising in his broken sleep
The moan of anguish?
The lover, if for certain days
His fair one be denied his gaze,
Sinks not in grief and wild amaze,
But, wiser wooer,
He spends the time in writing lays,
And posts them to her.
And if the verse flow free and fast,
Till even the poet is aghast,
A touching Valentine at last
The post shall carry,
When thirteen days are gone and past
Of February.
Farewell, dear friend, and when we meet,
In desert waste or crowded street,
Perhaps before this week shall fleet,
Perhaps tomorrow.
I trust to find YOUR heart the seat
Of wasting sorrow.
a Norse View Imaging and Publishing
established 2013
Copyright 2017
a Norse View, Mike Koontz
Thank you for reading the poem Melancholetta and A Valentine, Have a fab winter solstice and new years eve, and stay safe and warm, and happy :).
Written by Lewis Carroll.
Thank you for reading.
Author
Lewis Carroll
Photography
Mike Koontz
To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration
Medium
My livingroom art
Author page, Mike Koontz