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Sylvia Plath - Frog Autumn

Summer grows old, cold-blooded mother. 
The insects are scant, skinny. 
In these palustral homes we only 
Croak and wither. 

Mornings dissipate in somnolence. 
The sun brightens tardily 
Among the pithless reeds. Flies fail us. 
he fen sickens. 

Frost drops even the spider. Clearly 
The genius of plenitude 
Houses himself elsewhwere. Our folk thin 
Lamentably.

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Added: May 7 2003 | Viewed: 3913 times | Comments and analysis of Frog Autumn by Sylvia Plath Comments (49)

Frog Autumn - Comments and Information

Poet: Sylvia Plath
Poem: Frog Autumn
Poem of the Day: Mar 25 2004

Comment 49 of 49, added on May 9th, 2017 at 1:19 PM.
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POtWHz Very informative blog article.Really looking forward to read more. Will read on...

suba me from Botswana
Comment 48 of 49, added on March 4th, 2017 at 5:36 PM.
ZQeccETNcawVgb

OHhmce This blog was how do you say it? Relevant!! Finally I ave found something which helped me. Thanks!

come here from Costa Rica
Comment 47 of 49, added on March 4th, 2017 at 12:50 PM.
mGNAXMSNJkiREKghF

YYmzsI This is one awesome blog article.Really thank you! Keep writing.

mike tyson from Luxembourg

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