American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Excerpt · Fragment · Modernism · Passage · Poetry

Sylvia Plath

I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,

the diaphanous satins of a January window
white as babies’ bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!

— Sylvia Plath, from “A Birthday Present,” Ariel. (Harper & Row 1966)

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