Product Description Pulitzer Prize winner Sylvia Plath’s complete poetic works, edited and introduced by Ted Hughes.By the time of her death on 11, February 1963, Sylvia Plath had written a large bulk of poetry. To my knowledge, she never scrapped any of her poetic efforts. With one or two exceptions, she brought every piece she worked on to some final form acceptable to her, rejecting at most the odd verse, or a false head or a false tail. Her attitude to her verse was artisan-like: if she couldn’t get a table out of the material, she was quite happy to get a chair, or even a toy. The end product for her was not so much a successful poem, as something that had temporarily exhausted her ingenuity. So this book contains not merely what verse she saved, but-after 1956-all she wrote. - Ted Hughes, from the Introduction About the Author Sylvia Plath was born in 1932 in Massachusetts. Her books include the poetry collections The Colossus, Crossing the Water, Winter Trees, Ariel, and Collected Poems, which won the Pulitzer Prize. A complete and uncut facsimile edition of Ariel was published in 2004 with her original selection and arrangement of poems. She was married to the poet Ted Hughes, with whom she had a daughter, Frieda, and a son, Nicholas. She died in London in 1963. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Collected PoemsBy Sylvia PlathHarperCollins Publishers, Inc.Copyright © 2008Sylvia PlathAll right reserved.ISBN: 97800615588941956Conversation Among the RuinsThrough portico of my elegant house you stalkWith your wild furies, disturbing garla... See more
Product Description Pulitzer Prize winner Sylvia Plath’s complete poetic works, edited and introduced by Ted Hughes.By the time of her death on 11, February 1963, Sylvia Plath had written a large bulk of poetry. To my knowledge, she never scrapped any of her poetic efforts. With one or two exceptions, she brought every piece she worked on to some final form acceptable to her, rejecting at most the odd verse, or a false head or a false tail. Her attitude to her verse was artisan-like: if she couldn’t get a table out of the material, she was quite happy to get a chair, or even a toy. The end product for her was not so much a successful poem, as something that had temporarily exhausted her ingenuity. So this book contains not merely what verse she saved, but-after 1956-all she wrote. - Ted Hughes, from the Introduction About the Author Sylvia Plath was born in 1932 in Massachusetts. Her books include the poetry collections The Colossus, Crossing the Water, Winter Trees, Ariel, and Collected Poems, which won the Pulitzer Prize. A complete and uncut facsimile edition of Ariel was published in 2004 with her original selection and arrangement of poems. She was married to the poet Ted Hughes, with whom she had a daughter, Frieda, and a son, Nicholas. She died in London in 1963. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Collected PoemsBy Sylvia PlathHarperCollins Publishers, Inc.Copyright © 2008Sylvia PlathAll right reserved.ISBN: 97800615588941956Conversation Among the RuinsThrough portico of my elegant house you stalkWith your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruitAnd the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the netOf all decorum which holds the whirlwind back.Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croakAbove the appalling ruin; in bleak lightOf your stormy eye, magic takes flightLike a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days breakFractured pillars frame prospects of rock; While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot, Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic: With such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate, What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?Winter Landscape, with RooksWater in the millrace, through a sluice of stone, plunges headlong into that black pond where, absurd and out-of-season, a single swanfloats chaste as snow, taunting the clouded mindwhich hungers to haul the white reflection down.The austere sun descends above the fen, an orange cyclops-eye, scorning to look longer on this landscape of chagrin; feathered dark in thought, I stalk like a rook, brooding as the winter night comes on.Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice as is your image in my eye; dry frost glazes the window of my hurt; what solacecan be struck from rock to make heart's waste grow green again? Who'd walk in this bleak place?Continues...Excerpted from The Collected Poemsby Sylvia Plath Copyright © 2008 by Sylvia Plath. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
