The Bee Meeting (Sylvia Plath Poems)
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the ...
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos, Cool as the pearled interior of a conch. Bells, hooves, ...
As the gods began one world, and man another, So the snakecharmer begins a snaky sphere With moon-eye, mouth-pipe, He ...
Blameless as daylight I stood looking At a field of horses, necks bent, manes blown, Tails streaming against the green ...
No use whistling for Lyonnesse! Sea-cold, sea-cold it certainly is. Take a look at the white, high berg on his ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
Water in the millrace, through a sluice of stone, plunges headlong into that black pond where, absurd and out-of-season, a ...
For Leonard Baskin To his house the bodiless Come to barter endlessly Vision, wisdom, for bodies Palpable as his, and ...
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
How far is it? How far is it now? The gigantic gorilla interior Of the wheels move, they appall me ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is ...
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