Sylvia Plath

(October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963 / Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts)

Sylvia Plath Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
201. The Net-Menders 9/19/2014
202. The Night Dances 1/3/2003
203. The Other 1/13/2003
204. The Other Two 1/3/2003
205. The Queen's Complaint 1/3/2003
206. The Rabbit Catcher 9/19/2014
207. The Ravaged Face 9/19/2014
208. The Rival 1/3/2003
209. The Shrike 9/19/2014
210. The Sleepers 9/19/2014
211. The Sleepers 1/13/2003
212. The Snowman On The Moor 9/19/2014
213. The Stones 9/19/2014
214. The Surgeon At 2 A.M. 9/19/2014
215. The Swarm 1/3/2003
216. The Thin People 1/3/2003
217. The Times Are Tidy 9/19/2014
218. The Tour 9/19/2014
219. The Trial Of A Man 9/19/2014
220. Three Women 1/3/2003
221. To A Jilted Lover 9/17/2014
222. To Eva Descending The Stair 9/17/2014
223. Totem 1/3/2003
224. Touch-And-Go 9/17/2014
225. Tulips 1/3/2003
226. Two Campers In Cloud Country 1/3/2003
227. Two Sisters Of Persephone 1/3/2003
228. Two Views Of A Cadaver Room 1/3/2003
229. Vanity Fair 1/1/2004
230. Verbal Calisthenics 9/17/2014
231. Virgin In A Tree 1/3/2003
232. Waking In Winter 9/19/2014
233. Watercolor Of Grantchester Meadows 9/19/2014
234. Whitsun 9/19/2014
235. Who 9/19/2014
236. Widow 9/19/2014
237. Winter Landscape, With Rooks 1/13/2003
238. Winter Trees 1/3/2003
239. Wintering 1/3/2003
240. Witch Burning 9/19/2014
Best Poem of Sylvia Plath

Cinderella

The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span

The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,

And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince

As amid the hectic music and cocktail ...

Read the full of Cinderella

Sheep In Fog

The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells -

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