Thursday, January 1, 2004

The Daft-Days Comments

Rating: 2.7

Now mirk December's dowie face
Glours our the rigs wi' sour grimace,
While, thro' his minimum of space,
The bleer-ey'd sun
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Robert Fergusson
COMMENTS
Colin Bell 06 March 2006

I looked up Robert Fergusson as part of a training exercise based on a mental health theme. Obviously, The Daft-days has a rueful irony about it as the poet was to be admitted to Edinburgh's Bedlam asylum shortly before his short time was up. I think I'll have to look into Lallans and Auld Reekie vernacular to get the full benefit from this poem, a lot of the references are beyond me, looking at it for the first time. I didn't realise the wee statue at the church in the Canongate commemorated this poet, whose general wit and joie de vivre seemed to disintegrate into a mass of religious obsession. The same kind of thing happened to me at a similar age. Thankfully, there's a greater likelihood of some kind of cure for these ailments nowadays, although it's not necessarily an easy journey. I'm gonna go read the poem again. Ciao.

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Robert Fergusson

Robert Fergusson

Scotland
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