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Cinderella

Sylvia Plath

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 gilded 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.