Home  |  Elm Care Products
Home > About Elms > The Elm Story > Elms in Literature > Sylvia Plath
Last Update 02/04/07
Main Topics
  How Trees Work
About Elm Trees
The Elm Story 
Identifying Elms
Elm Species
Biology of Elms
  Caring for Your Elm
  Elm Tree Diseases
  Elm Tree Links
  Quick Elm Facts

Sylvia Plath  (1932~1963)


I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root; 
It is what you fear. 
I do not fear it: I have been there. 

Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions? 
Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness? 

Love is a shadow. 
How you lie and cry after it. 
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse. 

All night I shall gallup thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf, 
Echoing, echoing. 

Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons? 
This is rain now, the big hush. 
And this is the fruit of it: tin white, like arsenic. 

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets. 
Scorched to the root 
My red filaments burn and stand,a hand of wires. 

Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs. 
A wind of such violence 
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek. 

The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me 
Cruelly, being barren. 
Her radience scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her. 

I let her go. I let her go 
Diminished and flat, as after radical surgery. 
How your bad dreams possess and endow me. 

I am inhabited by a cry. 
Nightly it flaps out 
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love. 

I am terrified by this dark thing 
That sleeps in me; 
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. 

Clouds pass and disperse. 
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? 
Is it for such I agitate my heart? 

I am incapable of more knowledge. 
What is this, this face 
So murderous in its strangle of branches?-- 

Its snaky acids kiss. 
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults 
That kill, that kill, that kill.



Thank you for visiting Elmcare.com!

Site Map  |  About this site  |  Home