All Roads Are Completed

"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."