Part II: Calypso's Lament

She draws back, bewildered

As he flinches under her touch.

Fine muscles ripple under the bronzèd skin.

Surely this is no man at all;

A god, indeed!

But why does he lie there

Still in the sand?

The softly braided nymph stares

Perplexed

By the coldness of this beloved mortal.

How can it be that he prefers this nameless wife

To she who is peerless

In grace, features and form?

Her devotion

Her love

Is no less, surely,

Than this— mortal woman

For whom he pines.

She retreats to her golden bed

Ambrosial

Frowning pensively.

How strange that he

Amid paradise

Should yearn for the one thing beyond his reach.

And how strange that she

The Mistress of Paradise

Should be so desperate for a mere mortal's love.