Through fen and farmland walking
With my own country love
I saw slow flocked cows move
White hulks on their day's cruising;
Sweet grass sprang for their grazing.The air was bright for looking:
Most far in blue, aloft,
Clouds steered a burnished drift;
Larks' nip and tuck arising
Came in for my love's praising.Sheen of the noonsun striking
Took my heart as if
It were a green-tipped leaf
Kindled by my love's pleasing
Into an ardent blazing.And so, together, talking,
Through Sunday's honey-air
We walked (and still walk there---
Out of the sun's bruising)
Till the night mists came rising.
YOU ARE READING
Sylvia Plath Poetry
PoetrySylvia Plath Poetry is a book filled with the content of Sylvia Plath's poems. Sylvia Plath was an American poet, novelist, and short story writer. Plath's work often was singled out for the intense coupling of its violent or disturbed imagery and...