Friday, September 4, 2009

She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.

Toulouse-Lautrec and Renoir respectively.

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.
- Cinderella, Sylvia Plath.


Lillian said...

I just posted a depressing 'Cinderalla' post.

Sylvia Plath sure knows what its like in a Disney Asylum.

This one isnt as depressing however as most of hers, it seems like it could be made into an 80s punk rock song.

brianne. said...