There are the pillars, and all gone gray. Briony's hair went white. You may see Where the garden was if you come this way. That sun-dial scared him, he said to me; "Sooner or later they strike," said he, And he never got that from the books he read. Others are flourishing, worse than he, But he knew too much for the life he led. And who knows all knows everything That a patient ghost at last retrieves; There's more to be known of his harvesting When Time the thresher unbinds the sheaves; And there's more to be heard than a wind that grieves For Briony now in this ageless oak, Driving the first of its withered leaves Over the stones where the fountain broke. Lisette and Eileen "When he was here alive, Eileen, There was a word you might have said; So never mind what I have been, Or anything,--for you are dead. "And after this when I am there Where he is, you'll be dying still. Your eyes are dead, and your black hair,-- The rest of you be what it will. "'Twas all to save him? Never mind, Eileen. You saved him. You are strong. I'd hardly wonder if your kind Paid everything, for you live long. "You last, I mean. That's what I mean. I mean you last as long as lies. You might have said that word, Eileen,-- And you might have your hair and eyes. "And what you see might be Lisette, Instead of this that has no name. Your silence--I can feel it yet, Alive and in me, like a flame. "Where might I be with him to-day, Could he have known before he heard? But no--your silence had its way, Without a weapon or a word. "Because a word was never told, I'm going as a worn toy goes. And you are dead; and you'll be old; And I forgive you, I suppose. "I'll soon be changing as all do, To something we have always been; And you'll be old... He liked you, too. I might have killed you then, Eileen. "I think he liked as much of you As had a reason to be seen,-- As much as God made black and blue. He liked your hair and eyes, Eileen." Llewellyn and the Tree Could he have made Priscilla share The paradise that he had planned, Llewellyn would have loved his wife As well as any in the land. Could he have made Priscilla cease To goad him for what God left out, Llewellyn would have been as mild As any we have read about. Could all have been as all was not, Llewellyn would have had no story; He would have stayed a quiet man And gone his quiet way to glory. But howsoever mild he was Priscilla was implacable; And whatsoever timid hopes He built--she found them, and they fell.