The long night severs as two purple wings
From the bright body of a bird unfold.
The time has come, Odysseus, when the sea
Again must take you to its barren breast.
The gods have heard the prayer you made in dreams,
And from mine arms your restless soul is free
To seek again the way to Ithaca;
But driving winds and seas that hide in mists,
And perilous rocks, and storms, and hostile shores
Shall threaten ere you see Penelope, —
An unremembered strange Penelope,
A woman who has waited and has wept,
And is no more the bride you bade good-bye;
But Zeus ordains your homing destiny
And moves your heart with pity for her faith. ...
Your hands still linger in my falling hair,
And with the sting of kisses over-sweet
Between our lips our last kiss dies ... and now
I bring you parting gifts, and say farewell,
And bid you go — remembering my face.