An Idyll of the Western Front
Scene: A wayside shrine in France.
Persons: Celeste, Pierre, a Cloud.
Celeste (gazing at the solitary white Cloud):
I wonder what your thoughts are, little Cloud,
Up in the sky, so lonely and so proud!
Cloud: Not proud, dear maiden; lonely, if you will.
Long have I watched you, sitting there so still
Before that little shrine beside the way,
And wondered where your thoughts might be astray;
Your knitting lying idle on your knees,
And worse than idle—like Penelope’s,
Working its own undoing!
Celeste (picks up her knitting): Who was she?
Saints! What a knot!—Who was Penelope?
What happened to her knitting? Tell me, Cloud!
Cloud: She was a Queen; she wove her husband’s shroud.
Celeste (drops the knitting):
His shroud!
Cloud: There, there! ’Twas only an excuse
To put her lovers off, a wifely ruse,
Bidding them bide till it was finished, she
Each night the web unravelled secretly.
Celeste: He came home safe?