Gold Mouths Cry Poem by Sylvia Plath

Gold Mouths Cry

Rating: 4.8


Gold mouths cry with the green young
certainty of the bronze boy
remembering a thousand autumns
and how a hundred thousand leaves
came sliding down his shoulder blades
persuaded by his bronze heroic reason.
We ignore the coming doom of gold
and we are glad in this bright metal season.
Even the dead laugh among the goldenrod.

The bronze boy stands kneedeep in centuries,
and never grieves,
remembering a thousand autumns,
with sunlight of a thousand years upon his lips
and his eyes gone blind with leaves.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
gignac 26 July 2018

good poem very good poem really good

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Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath

Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts
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