Firesong

"Ode for Ted"

Firesong written by Sylvia Plath

"Song for a Summer's Day"

Poem composed in 1956; included as entry 11 in The Collected Poems, edited by Ted Hughes

Link to further information

Firesong Born green we were to this flawed garden, but in speckled thickets, warted as a toad, spitefully skulks our warden, fixing his snare which hauls down buck, cock, trout, till all most fair is tricked to falter in spilt blood. Now our whole task's to hack some angel-shape worth wearing from his crabbed midden where all's wrought so awry that no straight inquiring could unlock shrewd catch silting our each bright act back to unmade mud cloaked by sour sky. Sweet salts warped stem of weeds we tackle towards way's rank ending; scorched by red sun we heft globed flint, racked in veins' barbed bindings; brave love, dream not of staunching such strict flame, but come, lean to my wound; burn on, burn on. 1956

Works by this author are in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 62 years or less. cs | de | en | eo | es | fr | he | pl | ru | zh

  ▲ top