Relationships Quotes ( quotes)
However, it was with her father that Plath shared a tumultuous relationship, whose death left a lasting impression on her psychologically. Anne Sexton, an. Norman Jeffares, A New Commentary on the Poems of W.B. Yeats (Stanford ). Helen Vendler, Our . twilight of rest, And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet. .. When they had come to the marriage bed; And harpers. Among his poems are ones describing his tumultuous relationship with a woman he calls Lesbia, whom Apuleius identifies with Clodia. If this identification is.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears; That you were beautiful, and that I strove To love you in the old high way of love; That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown As weary-hearted as that hollow moon. The folly of being comforted One that is ever kind said yesterday: Because of that great nobleness of hers The fire that stirs about her when she stirs Burns but more clearly.
O she had not these ways, When all the wild summer was in her gaze. Old Memory Thought fly to her when the end of day Awakens an old memory, and say, 'Your strength, that is so lofty and fierce and kind, It might call up a new age, calling to mind The queens that were imagined long ago, Is but half yours: Under the moon I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde, Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor Joyous Isle, Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while; Nor Ulad, when Naoise had thrown a sail upon the wind, Nor lands that seem too dim to be burdens on the heart; Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon's light and the sun's Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long-lived ones; Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart, And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn, To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier: Therein are many queens like Branwen and Guinivere; And Niamh and Laban and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn, And the wood-woman, whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk; And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore, Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar, I hear the harp-string praise them, or hear their mournful talk.
Because of a story I heard under the thin horn Of the third moon, that hung between the night and the day, To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dismay. Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne. Baile and Aillinn Argument. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but Aengus, 1 the Master of Love, wishing them to be happy in his own land among the dead, told to each a story of the other's death, so that their hearts were broken and they died.
I hardly hear the curlew cry, Nor the grey rush when wind is high, Before my thoughts begin to run On the heir of Ulad, Buan's son, Baile who had the honey mouth, And that mild woman of the south, Aillinn, who was King Lugaid's heir. Their love was never drowned in care Of this or that thing, nor grew cold Because their bodies had grown old; Being forbid to marry on earth They blossomed to immortal mirth.
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They found an old man running there, He had ragged long grass-yellow hair; He had knees that stuck out of his hose; He had puddle water in his shoes; He had half a cloak to keep him dry; Although he had a squirrel's eye. O wandering birds and rushy beds, You put such folly in our heads With all this crying in the wind No common love is to our mind, And our poor Kate or Nan is less Than any whose unhappiness Awoke the harp strings long ago.
Yet they that know all things but know That all life had to give us is A child's laughter, a woman s kiss. Who was it put so great a scorn In the grey reeds that night and morn Are trodden and broken by the herds, And in the light bodies of birds That north wind tumbles to and fro And pinches among hail and snow? That runner said 'I am from the south; I run to Baile Honey-Mouth To tell him how the girl Aillinn Rode from the country of her kin And old and young men rode with her: For all that country had been astir If anybody half as fair Had chosen a husband anywhere But where it could see her every day.
When they had ridden a little way An old man caught the horse's head With 'You must home again and wed With somebody in your own land. We hold because our memory is So full of that thing and of this That out of sight is out of mind. But the grey rush under the wind And the grey bird with crooked bill Have such long memories that they still Remember Deirdre and her man, And when we walk with Kate or Nan About the windy water side Our heart can hear the voices chide.
How could we be so soon content Who know the way that Naoise went? And they have news of Deirdre's eyes Who being lovely was so wise, Ah wise, my heart knows well how wise. Now had that old gaunt crafty one, Gathering his cloak about him, run Where Aillinn rode with waiting maids Who amid leafy lights and shades Dreamed of the hands that would unlace Their bodices in some dim place When they had come to the marriage bed; And harpers pondering with bowed head A music that had thought enough Of the ebb of all things to make love Grow gentle without sorrowings; And leather-coated men with slings Who peered about on every side; And amid leafy light he cried, 'He is well out of wind and wave, They have heaped the stones above his grave In Muirthemne and over it In changeless Ogham letters writ Baile that was of Rury's seed.
But the gods long ago decreed No waiting maid should ever spread Baile and Aillinn's marriage bed, For they should clip and clip again Where wild bees hive on the Great Plain.
Therefore it is but little news That put this hurry in my shoes. That old man climbed; the day grew dim; Two swans came flying up to him Linked by a gold chain each to each And with low murmuring laughing speech Alighted on the windy grass. What shall I call them? They know all wonders, for they pass The towery gates of Gorias And Findrias and Falias Among the giant kings whose hoard Cauldron and spear and stone and sword Was robbed before Earth gave the wheat; Wandering from broken street to street They come where some huge watcher is And tremble with their love and kiss, They know undying things, for they Wander where earth withers away, Though nothing troubles the great streams But light from the pale stars, and gleams From the holy orchards, where there is none But fruit that is of precious stone, Or apples of the sun and moon.
What were our praise to them: And poets found, old writers say, A yew tree where his body lay, But a wild apple hid the grass With its sweet blossom where hers was; And being in good heart, because A better time had come again After the deaths of many men, And that long fighting at the ford, They wrote on tablets of thin board.
The narrator calls for her imaginary brother to dance with her mother, so that she gets an unhindered access to her father. As an undergraduate student, Plath was gripped by depression that led to a mental breakdown. In one of her journals, dated June 20,she wrote: At the age of nineteen, she attempted suicide for the first time by taking several sleeping pills at once.
She dwelt on the memories associated with her father for a long time after his death; among her works, nineteen of her poems before her adult verse are dedicated to her father.
Her poems focus mainly on the untimely demise of her father, and her Electra complex was consequently limited to joining her father in death. There is a strong desire for death, because only in death there is the possibility of reuniting with her father.
There is such a strong sexual tendency for her father in the said poem that the desire for suicide takes a backseat; suicide is only a means of attaining her father. I am the ghost of an infamous suicide, My own blue razor rusting in my throat.Key Quotes- AQA Love and Relationships Poems
O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at Your gate, father—your hound-bitch, daughter, friend. It was my love that did us both to death. Like Sexton, Plath tries to replace the position of the absent father by a husband. The mental instability that Plath faced later in her life had its inception partly in her childhood.
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Plath, who shared a close bond with her father, could never accept his sudden death. This deprivation establishes itself strongly in her adult life, and she retaliates through her poetry. But there is a sudden and very noteworthy contrast in her later poems with regard to her emotions toward Otto Plath. Sylvia shared a troublesome and taxing relationship with her husband, the poet Ted Hughes. Her later works portrays an attempt to liberate herself from the patriarchal figure, that of Hughes and her father, both of who, she considered, were responsible for holding her back and silencing her voice.
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In both the cases, she was deprived of the love that she sorely craved, and as a result she began to attack him in her poems. Her father stood for the symbolic and the law, and fighting against this symbol of the law enabled her to find her own voice. There are similarities between the two poets that are quite distinct in nature.
Both of them suffer from an intense Electra complex, and both, in an attempt to come to terms with their problematic and disturbing past, turn to putting words to paper. Both Sexton and Plath draw the figure of their fathers into unrealistic proportions, making them into Gods, and possessing Godlike qualities.
However, each of them has their own specific way of portraying this complexity in their poetry; whereas Plath exposes the theme in a much more surrealistic manner, Sexton not only uses sexual imageries, but also a technique of parallelism of the past and the present.
In the end, suicide is the only resort left to either of them to cope with their psychological disturbances.