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Morning Song. By Sylvia Plath. Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry. Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness. Shadows our safety.
The American poet Sylvia Plath first published "Morning Song" in 1961, shortly after the birth of her first child. The poem paints a surreal, intimate, and tender portrait of a woman navigating motherhood for the first time.
‘Morning Song’ by Sylvia Plath is a powerful poem about motherhood. The speaker explores the emotions related to it as well as its implications.
“Morning Song” is Sylvia Plath’s tribute to her newborn daughter, Frieda. Composed early in 1961 when the baby was eight months old, it expresses the ambivalence of new motherhood –...
Morning Song. Sylvia Plath. 1932 –. 1963. Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry. Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
'Morning Song' is one of several poems Sylvia Plath wrote concerning pregnancy, birth and maternal feelings. It is a short poem that highlights the confused reactions of the mother (the speaker, Plath) as she tends to the needs of her new baby.
"Morning Song" is a poem by American poet and novelist Sylvia Plath. The poem, from a the point-of-view of clinical psychology, appears to be about the effects of postpartum depression....
Morning Song (1961) Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry. Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness. Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls. I’m no more your mother.
Morning Song. Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
Morning Song. Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry. Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.