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The moon is door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Moon and the Yew Tree (l. 8-11). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
Thirty years now I have labored To dredge the silt from your throat. I am none the wiser. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Colossus (l. 8-10). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
The trees of the mind are black. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Moon and the Yew Tree (l. 2). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Morning Song (l. 13-14). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
Widow. The word consumes itself ... (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Crossing the Water. Widow (1971).)
a great space Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths Beating and beating at an intractable metal. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Blackberrying (l. 25-27). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth Of July to All Fools' Day, O high-riser, my little loaf. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. You're (l. 7-9). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
She is very clever. She is old, old, old, she must live another year, and she knows it. While in their fingerjoint cells the new virgins Dream of a duel they will win inevitably, (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 43-46). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
All morning the Morning has been blackening, A flower left out. (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Sheep in Fog (l. 8-10). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)
A certain minor light may still Leap incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then? (Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Black Rook in Rainy Weather (l. 14-18). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.)