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
Though 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 today and all days gone
Will be a steady distanced charm
A moment old."