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Sylvia Plath - Wuthering Heights

The horizons ring me like faggots,
Tilted and disparate, and always unstable.
Touched by a match, they might warm me,
And their fine lines singe
The air to orange
Before the distances they pin evaporate,
Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color.
But they only dissolve and dissolve
Like a series of promises, as I step forward.

There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heat away.
If I pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
To whiten my bones among them.

The sheep know where they are,
Browsing in their dirty wool-clouds,
Gray as the weather.
The black slots of their pupils take me in.
It is like being mailed into space,
A thin, silly message.
They stand about in grandmotherly disguise,
All wig curls and yellow teeth
And hard, marbly baas.

I come to wheel ruts, and water
Limpid as the solitudes
That flee through my fingers.
Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass;
Lintel and sill have unhinged themselves.
Of people and the air only
Remembers a few odd syllables.
It rehearses them moaningly:
Black stone, black stone.

The sky leans on me, me, the one upright
Among all horizontals.
The grass is beating its head distractedly.
It is too delicate
For a life in such company;
Darkness terrifies it.
Now, in valleys narrow
And black as purses, the house lights
Gleam like small change.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 31260 times | Comments and analysis of Wuthering Heights by Sylvia Plath Comments (4)

Wuthering Heights - Comments and Information

Poet: Sylvia Plath
Poem: Wuthering Heights
Volume: The Collected Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1961

Comment 4 of 4, added on June 22nd, 2012 at 6:34 AM.
poem

i thought this poem was absolutely awful, i hated it

sam from Bulgaria
Comment 3 of 4, added on June 7th, 2010 at 1:14 PM.

This has to be my most favourite poem by Plath. I grew up in Yorkshire and she just captures the atmosphere.

Note to the web producers,I think it ought to read 'solider' rather than 'soldier' according to my Faber copy.



Mim from United Kingdom
Comment 2 of 4, added on December 6th, 2007 at 1:03 PM.

it isnt a book....it is a poem..what u r talking about is wuthering heights by emily bronte..
still a good poem though

Lisa from United Kingdom

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