Odysseus

Odysseus in his cap of clouds

Might follow over shattered seas,

With tempests ringing in the shrouds,

Past Scylla's rock and Cyclops' knees -

A foam-lit figure, born of salt

‚And phosphor under coral caves

To bear, beneath that stormy vault,

A brief Olympus from the waves.

Penelope, indeed, might weave

Time's colored semblance into song

To clothe the silence at her sleeve,

Assuming in her web the thong

And sapling, stiff to foe and friend,

None but a beggar's arm could bend.