I am Vertical.docx - u201cI am Verticalu201d by Sylvia...

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“I am Vertical” by Sylvia Plath “The Seven Sorrows” by Ted Hughes I AM VERTICAL But I would rather be horizontal. I am not a tree with my root in the soil Sucking up minerals and motherly love So that each March I may gleam into leaf, Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted, Unknowing I must soon unpetal. Compared with me, a tree is immortal And a flower-head not tall, but more startling, And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring. Tonight, in the infinitesimallight of the stars, The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing. Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them-- Thoughts gone dim. It is more natural to me, lying down. Then the sky and I are in open conversation, And I shall be useful when I lie down finally: Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me. THE SEVEN SORROWS The first sorrow of autumn Is the slow goodbye Of the garden who stands so long in the evening- A brown poppy head, The stalk of a lily, And still cannot go. The second sorrow Is the empty feet Of a pheasant who hangs from a hook with his brothers. The woodland of gold Is folded in feathers With its head in a bag. And the third sorrow Is the slow goodbye Of the sun who has gathered the birds and who gathers The minutes of evening, The golden and holy Ground of the picture. The fourth sorrow Is the pond gone black Ruined and sunken the city of water- The beetle's palace,
The catacombs Of the dragonfly. And the fifth sorrow Is the slow goodbye Of the woodland that quietly breaks up its camp. One day it's gone. It has only left litter- Firewood, tentpoles. And the sixth sorrow Is the fox's sorrow The joy of the huntsman, the joy of the hounds, The hooves that pound Till earth closes her ear To the fox's prayer. And the seventh sorrow Is the slow goodbye Of the face with its wrinkles that looks through the window As the year packs up Like a tatty fairground That came for the children. COMMENTARY First of all, this commentary is going to focus on two poems, the first one that I am going to treat is “I am Vertical” by Sylvia Plath and the second one is “The Seven Sorrows” by Ted Hughes. These poets had a close relation, since they started to study at Cambridge University. In 1956, they met and by the time a couple of

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