Page:The man against the sky; a book of poems.djvu/133

 He fled, still clutching in his flight The roses that had been his fall; The Scarlet One, as you surmise, Fled with him, coral, rouge, and all.

Priscilla, waiting, saw the change Of twenty slow October moons; And then she vanished, in her turn To be forgotten, like old tunes.

So they were gone—all three of them, I should have said, and said no more, Had not a face once on Broadway Been one that I had seen before.

The face and hands and hair were old, But neither time nor penury Could quench within Llewellyn's eyes The shine of his one victory.