Atropos, dread
One of the Three,
Holding the thread
Woven for me;
Grimly thy shears,
Steely and bright,
Menace the years
Left for delight.
Grant it may chance,
Just as they close,
June may entrance
Earth with the rose;
Reigning as though,
Bliss to the breath,
Endless and no
Whisper of death.
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