I went looking for a Lewis Carroll nonsense poem other than “Jabberwocky” and landed on “The Walrus and the Carpenter.”
It appears in Through the Looking-Glass, but I read it first on its own, before finding out where it sits in the book or what people have tried to make it mean.
The poem
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright,
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done.
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun.”The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead,
There were no birds to fly.The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head,
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat,
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more,
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax,
Of cabbages and kings,
And why the sea is boiling hot,
And whether pigs have wings.”“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed.
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?”“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf.
I’ve had to ask you twice!”“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none,
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.
First reading
What a very Alice in Wonderland nonsense poem! The entire story makes sense, and yet the pictures it conjures are deliberately fantastical. You’re left asking, “Sure, oysters, but why a walrus and a carpenter?” and “What happened to the sun in the middle of the night?”
Lewis Carroll could make you picture dreamlike sequences that still felt plausible. This walk along the beach, ending in a feast of oysters, feels exactly like that.
Hearing it
I listened to Sir John Gielgud read the poem. His reading is exactly how I heard it in my head. Even with the sad twist, the poem remains whimsical and somehow funny.
What I learned
The poem appeared in Chapter 4 of Through the Looking-Glass in 1871. Tweedledee recites it after Alice rather doubtfully admits that she likes “some poetry” and asks for directions out of the wood. Her request is ignored. Instead, Tweedledum chooses this poem simply because it is the longest one they know.
The answer to my question, “Why a walrus and a carpenter?” is wonderfully arbitrary. When the poem was being illustrated, Carroll offered John Tenniel a choice between a carpenter, a butterfly and a baronet. All three fitted the metre. Tenniel chose the Carpenter. With a different decision, we might now be talking about the Walrus and the Butterfly, which feels entirely appropriate.
The poem has eighteen six-line stanzas, alternating between longer and shorter lines. The familiar nursery-rhyme bounce lets it become increasingly horrible without ever quite ceasing to be funny. Carroll later said that he had no particular earlier poem in mind when he wrote it. The metre, he said, was a common one.
The argument immediately afterwards is almost as good as the poem. Alice first prefers the Walrus because at least he seems sorry for the oysters. Tweedledee points out that the Walrus hid behind his handkerchief so the Carpenter could not see him eating more. Alice switches to the Carpenter, only to learn that he ate as many as he could get. She finally decides that they were both very unpleasant characters.
There is no useful answer about the sun shining in the middle of the night. Carroll tells us it is odd and moves on.
Rereading it
It is funny to reread the poem with “Butterfly” instead of “Carpenter”. Partly it is the mental image. More than that, it is absurd to imagine a butterfly not merely tricking the oysters but then devouring them.
I had wondered why Carroll chose a walrus and a carpenter. Finding out that the pairing was wonderfully arbitrary is delightful.
The line or image I kept thinking about
The Walrus and the Carpenter strolling along the beach is certainly vivid and memorable. But my mind keeps returning to the sun shining in the middle of the night and making the moon jealous. What would it look like for the sun to be out and yet for it still to be night?
Sources and versions
The 1872 text at Representative Poetry Online, University of Toronto
The poem in a public-domain collection of songs from the Alice books
The Lewis Carroll Society of North America’s online-text guide
Edward Guiliano, ed., Through the Looking-Glass, Oxford World’s Classics, introduction and notes
Martin Gardner, ed., The Annotated Alice: The Definitive Edition