The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the [skies]* - Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection. At the end, they soberly bong out their names.
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* Plath: "sky"Text Authorship:
- by Sylvia Plath (1932 - 1963), appears in The Moon and the Yew Tree [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Bernard Rands (b. 1934), "From "The Moon and the Yew Tree"", published 1980, first performed 1981 [ soprano and orchestra ], from Canti lunatici, no. 10, London : Universal Edition [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 7
Word count: 65