Cinderella

The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span

The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,

And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince

As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.

More poems by Sylvia Plath

Sleep in the Mojave Desert

Out here there are no hearthstones, / Hot grains, simply. It is dry, dry.

Sylvia Plath

Jilted

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, / My tears like vinegar,

Sylvia Plath

Fiesta Melons

In Benidorm there are melons, / Whole donkey-carts full

Sylvia Plath

Mushrooms

Overnight, very / Whitely, discreetly,

Sylvia Plath

All poems by Sylvia Plath →