Sick with a fear that had no form She knew that she was there at last; And in the mill there was a warm And mealy fragrance of the past. What else there was would only seem To say again what he had meant; And what was hanging from a beam Would not have heeded where she went. And if she thought it followed her, She may have reasoned in the dark That one way of the few there were Would hide her and would leave no mark: Black water, smooth above the weir Like starry velvet in the night, Though ruffled once, would soon appear The same as ever to the sight. The Dark Hills Dark hills at evening in the west, Where sunset hovers like a sound Of golden horns that sang to rest Old bones of warriors under ground, Far now from all the bannered ways Where flash the legions of the sun, You fade -- as if the last of days Were fading, and all wars were done. The Three Taverns When the brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as far as Appii Forum, and The Three Taverns. (Acts 28:15) Herodion, Apelles, Amplias, And Andronicus? Is it you I see -- At last? And is it you now that are gazing As if in doubt of me? Was I not saying That I should come to Rome? I did say that; And I said furthermore that I should go On westward, where the gateway of the world Lets in the central sea. I did say that, But I say only, now, that I am Paul -- A prisoner of the Law, and of the Lord A voice made free. If there be time enough To live, I may have more to tell you then Of western matters. I go now to Rome, Where Caesar waits for me, and I shall wait, And Caesar knows how long. In Caesarea There was a legend of Agrippa saying In a light way to Festus, having heard My deposition, that I might be free, Had I stayed free of Caesar; but the word Of God would have it as you see it is -- And here I am. The cup that I shall drink Is mine to drink -- the moment or the place Not mine to say. If it be now in Rome, Be it now in Rome; and if your faith exceed The shadow cast of hope, say not of me Too surely or too soon that years and shipwreck, And all the many deserts I have crossed That are not named or regioned, have undone Beyond the brevities of our mortal healing The part of me that is the least of me. You see an older man than he who fell Prone to the earth when he was nigh Damascus, Where the great light came down; yet I am he That fell, and he that saw, and he that heard. And I am here, at last; and if at last I give myself to make another crumb For this pernicious feast of time and men -- Well, I have seen too much of time and men To fear the ravening or the wrath of either.