#the moon and the yew tree

[mothprincess]

Sylvia Plath, from “The Moon and the Yew Tree,” Ariel

[gennsoup]

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering Blue and mystical over the face of the stars.

Sylvia Plath, The Moon and the Yew Tree

[hangsawoman]

the moon and the yew tree, sylvia plath

[petaltexturedskies]

Sylvia Plath, from the moon and the yew tree

[typewriter-worries]

The Moon and the Yew Tree, Tory Dent

[ Text ID: How I would like to believe in / tenderness --- ]

[ozornalldead]

Suzuki Harunobu, Hares and Autumn Full Moon, Edo Period; Sylvia Plath, “The Moon and the Yew Tree”, 1961; Richard Adams, Watership Down, 1972; The Moon and the Yew Tree, Anthony Cockayne, 2014

[sdheath]

[bipolarsupernova]

[andkindnessfallslikerain]

The Moon and the Yew Tree

by Sylvia Plath

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.

The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.

The grasses unload their griefs at my feet as if I were God,

Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility.

Fumey spiritous mists inhabit this place

Separated from my house by a row of headstones.

I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,

White as a knuckle and terribly upset.

It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet

With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky –

Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection.

At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up. It has a Gothic shape.

The eyes lift after it and find the moon.

The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.

Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.

How I would like to believe in tenderness –

The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,

Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering

Blue and mystical over the face of the stars.

Inside the church, the saints will be all blue,

Floating on their delicate feet over cold pews,

Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.

The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.

And the message of the yew tree is blackness –

blackness and silence.

[mothprincess]

Sylvia Plath, from “The Moon and the Yew Tree,” Ariel

[problematicgemineye]

[a-ramblinrose]

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs at my feet as if I were God, Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility. Fumy spiritous mists inhabit this place Separated from my house by a row of headstones. I simply cannot see where there is to get to. The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky – Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection. At the end, they soberly bong out their names. The yew tree points up. It has a Gothic shape. The eyes lift after it and find the moon. The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness – The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes. I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering Blue and mystical over the face of the stars. Inside the church, the saints will be all blue, Floating on their delicate feet over cold pews, Their hands and faces stiff with holiness. The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild. And the message of the yew tree is blackness –blackness and silence.

Sylvia Plath, ‘The Moon and the Yew Tree’

[petaltexturedskies]

The eyes lift after it and find the moon. The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness – The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

An excerpt from “The Moon and the Yew Tree” by Sylvia Plath

[angelelysium]

(via Sylvia Plath - The moon and the Yew Tree Art Board Print by RobertMKAngel) 

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[mournfulroses]

Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath; "The Moon & The Yew Tree," (edited)