(no subject)
This from Poet Ted Hughe's "Poetry in the Making":
"There are no words to capture the infinite depth of crowiness in the crow's flight. The ominous thing... the bare-faced, bandit thing, the tattered beggarly gipsy thing, the caressing and shaping, yet slightly clumsy gesture of the downstroke, as if the wings were both too heavy and too powerful, and the headlong sort of merriment, the macabre pantomime ghoulishness and the undertaker sleekness....A bookload of such descriptions is immediately rubbish when you look up and see the crow flying."
Borrowed with thanks to piony
"There are no words to capture the infinite depth of crowiness in the crow's flight. The ominous thing... the bare-faced, bandit thing, the tattered beggarly gipsy thing, the caressing and shaping, yet slightly clumsy gesture of the downstroke, as if the wings were both too heavy and too powerful, and the headlong sort of merriment, the macabre pantomime ghoulishness and the undertaker sleekness....A bookload of such descriptions is immediately rubbish when you look up and see the crow flying."
Borrowed with thanks to piony