Sometimes, when I weary of gleaning any new vocabulary in contemporary writings, I turn to Victorian poetry. It seldom disappoints. Then, in the poem Passionate Dowsabella--considered now an overwrought pastoral about the shepherdess Dowsabella, but not without its charms--I stumble upon the following passage: And away from down the distance, Down the downy dreamy distance, You could hear the clowns a-calling As they piled the scented cocks; The image that springs to mind is not, I think, what the poet intended. The OED reveals that clowns are also quaint rustic peasants while the aforementioned cocks are the conical heaps of stuff being harvested. Here, flowers. But the other image? As if clowns werent scary enough.
Posted on: Tue, 22 Apr 2014 05:03:57 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015