Page:The man against the sky; a book of poems.djvu/130

 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.

And this went on, with intervals Of labored harmony between Resounding discords, till at last Llewellyn turned—as will be seen.

Priscilla, warmer than her name, And shriller than the sound of saws, Pursued Llewellyn once too far, Not knowing quite the man he was.