New Year on Dartmoor This is newness: every little tawdry Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar, Glinting and clinkling in a saint's falsetto. Only you Don't know what to make of the sudden slippiness, The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant. There's no getting up it by the words you know. No getting up by elepant or wheel or shoe. We have only come to look. You are too new To want the world in a glass hat. —Sylvia Plath --

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