Penelope

PENELOPE

In the pathway of the sun,

  In the footsteps of the breeze,

Where the world and sky are one,

  He shall ride the silver seas,

    He shall cut the glittering wave.

I shall sit at home, and rock;

Rise, to heed a neighbor’s knock;

Brew my tea, and snip my thread;

Bleach the linen for my bed.

    They will call him brave.

by Dorothy Parker

This is the first poem that I ever memorized.  I must have been sixteen at the time.  I remember reading a lot of Dorothy Parker that year.  My friend Michael introduced me to her work, and  I credit him (and L., who doesn't let me write about her!) for much of my early understanding of poetry.  He also taught me to appreciate the nuances in different interpretations of Chopin's Nocturnes. Life before sixteen was a bit of a fog, but M. was one of the people who drew me out of it.