“The cap and bells of Time the Clown
That, jangling, whistled down
Young cherubs hidden in the guise
Of every bird that flies;”
"Clowns' Houses"
Clowns' Houses (1918)
Context: p>The busy chatter of the heat
Shrilled like a parakeet;
And shuddering at the noonday light
The dust lay dead and whiteAs powder on a mummy's face,
Or fawned with simian grace
Round booths with many a hard bright toy
And wooden brittle joy:The cap and bells of Time the Clown
That, jangling, whistled down
Young cherubs hidden in the guise
Of every bird that flies;And star-bright masks for youth to wear,
Lest any dream that fare
— Bright pilgrim — past our ken, should see
Hints of Reality.</p
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Edith Sitwell 50
British poet 1887–1964Related quotes
“Wear the cap and the bells
And you'll rate all the great swells.”
"Be A Clown"
The Pirate (1948)
Context: Wear the cap and the bells
And you'll rate all the great swells.
If you become a doctor, folks'll face you with dread.
If you become a dentist, they'll be glad when you're dead.
You get a bigger hand if you can stand on your head.
Be a clown, be a clown, be a clown.
"Differences", V
The Collected Songs of Charles Mackay (1859)
Source: Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
“Heart of my heart, the world is young;
Love lies hidden in every rose!”
Unity, § I
The Golden Hynde and Other Poems (1914)
Context: Heart of my heart, the world is young;
Love lies hidden in every rose!
Every song that the skylark sung
Once, we thought, must come to a close:
Now we know the spirit of song,
Song that is merged in the chant of the whole,
Hand in hand as we wander along,
What should we doubt of the years that roll?
Stanza 7
Poems (1820), Ode to a Nightingale
Context: Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
“It's a pity we don't whistle at one another, like birds. Words are misleading.”
Pastor Jón Prímus
Kristnihald undir Jökli (Under the Glacier/Christianity at Glacier) (1968)