And his vituperative temporizing
Over a eh in rags would mend no holes.
“But there’s a crown that even the lowliest
May learn to wear,” he said. “Glory to God!”
And his eyes glittered with an icy joy
That made me hope that he was wearing it.
“Of course we can’t forget,” he said in answer
To doubt that in my silence may have spoken;
“Yet there is much that we may leave behind,
And there is always more if we go on.”
In marking after that the accuracy
Of his minute recount, I found it hard
Not to believe that he remembered all—
Save that which of itself was everything,
Or once had been so. There before the mirror,
That bitter midnight when he heard the clocks,
[ 29 ]
