Blackberrying by Sylvia Plath Nobody in the lane, and nothing, n Blackberries on either side, thoug A blackberry alley, going down in Somewhere at the end of it, heavin Big as the ball of my thumb, and &
Confessional by Paul Laurence Dunbar Search thou my heart; If there be guile, It shall depart Before thy smile. Search thou my soul;
Epilogue by Robert Lowell Those blessèd structures, plot and why are they no help to me now I want to make something imagined, not recalled? I hear the noise of my own voice:
July in Washington by Robert Lowell The stiff spokes of this wheel touch the sore spots of the earth. On the Potomac, swan—white power launches keep breasting the Otters slide and dive and slick ba
Memories of West Street and Lepke by Robert Lowell Only teaching on Tuesdays, book—w in pajamas fresh from the washer e I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough St where even the man
To Frank Parker by Robert Lowell Forty years ago we were here where we are now, the same erotic May—wind blew the trees from there to here— the same tang of metal in the mout
My Last Afternoon with Uncle Devereux Winslow by Robert Lowell “I won’t go with you. I want to s That’s how I threw cold water on my Mother and Father’s watery martini pipe dreams at Sund ... Fontainebleau, Mattapoisett,
Skunk Hour by Robert Lowell Nautilus Island’s hermit heiress still lives through winter her sheep still graze above the se Her son’s a bishop. Her farmer is first selectman in our village;
Sailing Home from Rapallo by Robert Lowell Your nurse could only speak Itali but after twenty minutes I could i and tears ran down my cheeks.... When I embarked from Italy with m the whole shoreline of the Golfo d
Morning Prayers by CJ Johnson Morning Prayers I move my eyes toward the middle waiting for the whisper to tell my soul to calm, mind to breathe.
Confessional by Chesterton Now that I kneel at the throne, O Pity and pardon me. Much have I striven to sing the s Brother of beast and tree; Yet when the stars catch me alone
Confessional, The by Robert Browning [SPAIN.] It is a lie—-their Priests, their Their Saints, their... all they f Are lies, and lies—-there! through And ceiling, there! and walls and
The Confessional by Robert Browning It is a lie—their Priests, their Their Saints, their... all they f Are lies, and lies—there! through And ceiling, there! and walls and There, lies, they lie—shall still
confessional by CLEMENTINE As soon as I start writing - I know it isn’t a good sign. Why is it that I never write about anything good? Maybe I’m afraid I’ll 1
The Golden Legend: II. a Farm in the Odenwald by Henry W. Longfellow * * * * * _A woman kneeling at the confessional… The Parish Priest (from within Stands the village confessional! Within it, as an honored … entering and kneeling at th…
Menstruation at Forty by Anne Sexton I was thinking of a son. The womb is not a clock nor a bell tolling, but in the eleventh month of its l I feel the November
The Third Ingredient by O. Henry … Cecilia’s head to its confession… “Go on and tell me … formed the bars of the …
Divina Commedia by Henry W. Longfellow … tomb to tomb. From the confessionals I hear aris Rehearsals of … 1
Above the Oxbow by Sylvia Plath Here in this valley of discrete ac We have not mountains, but mounts, To the Adirondacks, to northern M Themselves mere rocky hillocks to Still, they’re out best mustering
Aftermath by Sylvia Plath Compelled by calamity’s magnet They loiter and stare as if the ho Burnt—out were theirs, or as if th Some scandal might any minute ooze From a smoke—choked closet into li
All Appearance by Sylvia Plath The smile of iceboxes annihilates Such blue currents in the veins of I hear her great heart purr. From her lips ampersands and perce Exit like kisses.
Among the Narcissi by Sylvia Plath Spry, wry, and gray as these Marc Percy bows, in his blue peajacket, He is recuperating from something The narcissi, too, are bowing to s It rattles their stars on the gree
Apprehensions by Sylvia Plath There is this white wall, above wh Infinite, green, utterly untouchab Angels swim in it, and the stars, They are my medium. The sun dissolves on this wall, bl 1
April Aubade by Sylvia Plath Worship this world of watercolor m in glass pagodas hung with veils o where diamonds jangle hymns within and sap ascends the steeple of the A saintly sparrow jargons madrigal
Ariel by Sylvia Plath Stasis in darkness. Then the substanceless blue Pour of tor and distances. God’s lioness, How one we grow,
The Babysitters by Sylvia Plath It is ten years, now, since we row The sun flamed straight down that That summer we wore black glasses We were always crying, in our spar In …
Barren Woman by Sylvia Plath Empty, I echo to the least footfa Museum without statues, grand with In my courtyard a fountain leaps a Nun—hearted and blind to the world Exhale their pallor like scent.
The Bee Meeting by Sylvia Plath Who are these people at the bridge The rector, the midwife, the sexto In my sleeveless summery dress I And they are all gloved and covere They …
Berck - Plage by Sylvia Plath (I) This is the sea, then, this great How the sun’s poultice draws on my Electrifyingly—colored sherbets, s By pale girls, travel the air in s
A Birthday Present by Sylvia Plath What is this, behind this veil, is It is shimmering, has it breasts, I am sure it is unique, I am sure When I am quiet at my cooking I f ‘Is this the one I … 1
Black Pine Tree in an Orange Light by Sylvia Plath Tell me what you see in it: The pine tree like a Rorschach—bl black against the orange light: Plant an orange pumpkin patch which at twelve will quaintly hatc
Bluebeard by Sylvia Plath I am sending back the key that let me into bluebeard’s study because he would make love to me I am sending back the key; in his eye’s darkroom I can see 2
Bucolics by Sylvia Plath Mayday: two came to field in such `A daisied mead’, each said to eac So were they one; so sought they c Across barbed stile, through flock `No pitchforked farmer, please,' s