| An Ancient Gesture |
| I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:
Penelope did this too. And more than once: you can't keep weaving all day And undoing it all through the night; Your arms get tired, and the back of your neck gets tight; And along towards morning, when you think it will never be light, And your husband has been gone, and you don't know where, for years. Suddenly you burst into tears; There is simply nothing else to do. And I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron: This is an ancient gesture, authentic, antique, In the very best tradition, classic, Greek; Ulysses did this too. But only as a gesture,--a gesture which implied To the assembled throng that he was much too moved to speak. He learned it from Penelope... Penelope, who really cried. -Edna St. Vincent Millay |
 |
| Poetry- (alphabetical order by last name of author) |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
| Contact Information: |
 |