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    An Ancient Gesture
    by Edna St. Vincent Millay

    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.

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