Poem by Sylvia Plath

Child

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new
Whose name you meditate —
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.

1. Temper of Time
2. Words for a Nursery
3. The Disquieting Muses
4. Sow
5. Gold Mouths Cry

Carl Sandburg Child ("The young child, Christ, is straight and wise")

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