When I was cleaning up my bookshelf my hands fell on to a tiny little book that holds some very large memories. It is a very old book of poetry that belonged to my Grandma and is one of the few items I own that belonged to her. She gifted it to me when I was a teenager.
The little book holds a poem that has a special place in my heart because it was one that delighted my Grandma. And because it delighted her, it delighted me. It was her way of commenting on generational gaps, I belive.
So much so that I once used it as a peice for my drama class back in juniour high school. We had to present a solo monologue of a poem or a story that we loved.
I chose ‘You are old, Father William’ by Lewis Carroll. It is from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
I still recite bits of it in my head from time to time, sometimes I’ll utter a line or two out loud.
If you’ve never read or heard of the poem, enjoy, I am sharing it with you below.
‘Father William’ (1865)
~ Lewis Carroll
“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head –
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”
“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door –
Pray, what is the reason of that?”
“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling the box –
Allow me to sell you a couple?”
“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak –
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”
“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”
“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose –
What made you so awfully clever?”
“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs!”
Do you have a favourite poem and, if so, what memories does it trigger, and why?
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