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.