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I had let it all grow. I had supposed It was all OK. Your life Was a liner I voyaged in. Costly education had fitted you out. Financiers and committees and consultants Effaced themselves in the gleam of your finish. You trembled with the new life of those engines. That first morning, Before your first class at College, you sat there Sipping coffee. Now I know, as I did not, What eyes waited at the back of the class To check your first professional performance Against their expectations. What assessors Waited to see you justify the cost And redeem their gamble. What a furnace Of eyes waited to prove your metal. I watched The strange dummy stiffness, the misery, Of your blue flannel suit, its straitjacket, ugly Half-approximation to your idea Of the properties you hoped to ease into, And your horror in it. And the tanned Almost green undertinge of your face Shrunk to its wick, your scar lumpish, your plaited Head pathetically tiny. You waited, Knowing yourself helpless in the tweezers Of the life that judges you, and I saw The flayed nerve, the unhealable face-wound Which was all you had for courage. I saw that what you gripped, as you sipped, Were terrors that killed you once already. Now I see, I saw, sitting, the lonely Girl who was going to die. That blue suit. A mad, execution uniform, Survived your sentence. But then I sat, stilled, Unable to fathom what stilled you As I looked at you, as I am stilled Permanently now, permanently Bending so briefly at your open coffin.


Ted Hughes


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Did you know about Ted Hughes?

If I tried too hard to tell them exactly how something happened in the hope of correcting some fantasy I was quite likely to be accused of trying to suppress Free Speech. In 1989 with Hughes under public attack a battle raged in the letters pages of The Guardian and The Independent. During his time in Mexborough he explored Manor Farm at Old Denaby which he said he would come to know "better than any place on earth".

His last poetic work Birthday Letters (1998) explored their complex relationship. His part in the relationship became controversial to some feminists and (particularly) American admirers of Plath. Edward James "Ted" Hughes OM (17 August 1930 – 28 October 1998) was an English poet and children's writer.

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