Mirror (Poem) by Sylvia Plath

 

Mirror by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

 

Periods of English Literature

 

The Colour Purple - Summary

Chemmeen - Synopsis

American Literature Q. P. - [ 4BEN6C2 ]

Events

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There's Been a Death in the Opposite House by Emily Dickinson.

There's Been a Death in the Opposite House by Emily Dickinson

There's been a death in the opposite house

As lately as today.

I know it by the numb look

Such houses have alway.

The neighbours rustle in and out,

The doctor drives away.

A window opens like a pod,

Abrupt, mechanically;

Somebody flings a mattress out, -

The children hurry by;

They wonder if It died on that, -

I used to when a boy.

The minister goes stiffly in

As if the house were his,

And he owned all the mourners now,

And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man

Of the appalling trade,

To take the measure of the house.

There'll be that dark parade

Of tassels and of coaches soon;

It's easy as a sign, -

The intuition of the news

In just a country town.