Carcanet Press
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...where the usual publisher's list might be like the contents of a bookshop, Carcanet's was like the contents of a private library. More than that, over the years, the Carcanet list has grown without any dilution of seriousness, so that looking at it now is like being invited to read the contents of a poet's library.
Robert Nye
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Welcome to Carcanet Press, one of the outstanding independent literary publishers of our time. Now in its fifth decade, Carcanet publishes the most comprehensive and diverse list available of modern and classic poetry in English and in translation, as well as a range of inventive fiction, Lives and Letters and literary criticism.
The Observances The Observances Kate Miller
Haunted House Haunted House Pierre Reverdy Tr. John Ashbery
As When As When Tom Raworth Ed. Miles Champion
Semibreve Semibreve John F. Deane
Poppies in Translation Poppies in Translation Sujata Bhatt
The World Before Snow The World Before Snow Tim Liardet
The Invisible Gift The Invisible Gift David Morley
The Midnight Letterbox The Midnight Letterbox Edwin Morgan Ed. James McGonigal and John Coyle
Poem of the Day

Jabberwocky

Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
all mimsy were the borogroves,
      and the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
      the jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the jubjub bird, and shun
      the frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
      Long time the manxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
      and stood a while in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
      The Jabberwock with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
      and burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
      He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
      He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves,
      and the mome raths outgrabe.
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