Sylvia Plath


Sing praise for statuary: For those anchored attitudes And staunch stone eyes that stare Through lichen-lid and passing bird-foot At some steadfast mark Beyond the inconstant green Gallop and flick of light In this precarious park Where vivid children twirl Like colored tops through time Nor stop to understand How all their play is touch-and-go: But, Go! they cry, and the swing Arcs up to the tall tree tip; Go! and the merry-go-round Hauls them round with it. And I, like the children, caught In the mortal active verb, Let my transient eye break a tear For each quick, flaring game Of child, leaf and cloud, While on this same fugue, unmoved, Those stonier eyes look, Safe-socketed in rock.

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