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 vеry best tradition, classic, Greek;
Ulysses did this too
But only as a gesturе,—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