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Thread: Frances Cornford?

  1. #1

    Frances Cornford?

    Anyone familiar with this poet? I´ve never heard of her before . A friend just sent me this poem, and now I long for more. I guess I could google her name - but it´s more fun to discuss here. And that way I get to share this poem :

    To a Fat Lady Seen From the Train

    O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
    Missing so much and so much?
    O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
    Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
    When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
    And shivering sweet to the touch?
    O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
    Missing so much and so much?

    -- Frances Cornford
    "Man was made for joy and woe;
    And when this we rightly know
    Through the world we safely go" Blake

  2. #2
    Good morning, Campers! Jay's Avatar
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    O fat white woman whom nobody loves
    *growls... sulks afterwards* so not going to read anymore of her poems
    I have a plan: attack!

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    Quote Originally Posted by Jay
    *growls... sulks afterwards* so not going to read anymore of her poems
    Worry not, Jay; I have heard worse. I think that small part of the poem merely scoffs our petty emphasis on body image and appearance.

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    Good morning, Campers! Jay's Avatar
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    It's the 'whom nobody loves' part associated with the emphasis on body image and appereance that got me... all grrr. Don't fat people deserve to live or what? (rhetorical question, don't bother replying... tend to make a lot of threads go OT recently)
    I have a plan: attack!

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    You CAN go Home Again Sindhu's Avatar
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    Chesterton was moved to reply on the woman's behalf:

    Why do you rush through the fields in trains,
    Guessing so much and so much.
    Why do you flash through the flowery meads,
    Fat-head poet that nobody reads;
    And why do you know such a frightful lot
    About people in gloves and such?
    -- Chesterton, 'The Fat White Woman Speaks'
    (c. 1933); an answer to Frances Cornford.

    and Housman skewered the poem rather neatly:

    O why do you walk through the fields in boots,
    Missing so much and so much?
    O fat white woman whom nobody shoots,
    Why do you walk through the fields in boots,
    When the grass is soft as the breast of coots
    And shivering-sweet to the touch?
    I'm nobody, who are you?
    Are you nobody too?
    There's a pair of us, don't tell!
    They'd banish us, you know!

    How dreary to be somebody!

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