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• Famous Poem

  • Child's Park Stones (Sylvia Plath)
    
    In sunless air, under pines
    Green to the point of blackness, some
    Founding father set these lobed, warped stones
    To loom in the leaf-filtered gloom
    Black as the charred knuckle-bones
    
    Of a giant or extinct
    Animal, come from another
    Age, another planet surely. Flanked
    By the orange and fuchsia bonfire
    Of azaleas, sacrosanct
    
    These stones guard a dark repose
    And keep their shapes intact while sun
    Alters shadows of rose and iris ---
    Long, short, long --- in the lit garden
    And kindles a day's-end blaze
    
    Colored to dull the pigment
    Of azaleas, yet burnt out
    Quick as they. To follow the light's tint
    And intensity by midnight
    By noon and throughout the brunt
    
    Of various weathers is
    To know the still heart of the stones:
    Stones that take the whole summer to lose
    Their dream of the winter's cold; stones
    Warming at core only as
    
    Frost forms. No man's crowbar could
    Uproot them: their beards are ever-
    Green. Nor do they, once in a hundred
    Years, go down to drink the river:
    No thirst disturbs a stone's bed.
    
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