Bucolics

"Pursuit"

Bucolics written by Sylvia Plath

"Tale of a Tub"

Poem composed in 1956, entry 4 in The Collected Poems, edited by Ted Hughes

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Bucolics Mayday: two came to field in such wise: 'A daisied mead,' each said to each, So were they one; so sought they couch, Across barbed stile, through flocked brown cows. 'No pitchforked farmer, please,' she said; 'May cockcrow guard us safe,' said he; By blackthorn thicket, flower spray They pitched their coats, come to green bed. Below: a fen where water stood; Aslant: their hill of stinging nettle; Then, honor-bound, mute grazing cattle; Above: leaf-wraithed white air, white cloud. All afternoon these lovers lay Until the sun turned pale from warm, Until sweet wind changed tune, blew harm: Cruel nettles stung her ankles raw. Rueful, most vexed, that tender skin Should accept so fell a wound, He stamped and cracked stalks to the ground Which had caused his dear girl pain. Now he goes from his rightful road And, under honor, will depart; While she stands burning, venom-girt, In wait for sharper smart to fade 1956