Nothing in this short poem quite adds up, and that seems to be the point. The speaker opens by saying they kept a "dun cow" in their cabin, and that cow is somehow a paradox. The next lines pile on more oddities: the sea is "good at ninepins," as if waves were knocking down skittles, and we "hear for our instruments," as if hearing were a job done on behalf of tools. The final image, locks singing to the blacksmith, turns a made object back toward its maker, as though the things we forge could answer us.
The title suggests the poem is playing with contradiction, and the images feel like dream logic rather than a story. The speaker's feelings are hard to pin down, but the tone seems calm and curious rather than anxious. The mood is quiet, strange and a little playful, like a small, solitary room where ordinary rules loosen and everyday things begin to speak or play. It asks you to enjoy the oddness rather than solve it.