"All roads are completed" She said "A tired time beauty is perfect through all windows Her autograph is legible on every hill-head. No need now Dark labourings in pain The sculptured moods of thought Are cleansed by simple rain. Grieve never When the laugh of hurrying love Passes too high - There are star-subtle fingers, the cloud-senses above. To morrow A different exult will hold. And to-day and all days gone Will be a steady, distanced charm A moment old."