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Atropos

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.

Written by

John Myers O'Hara

1870-1944 / American

LinesWords: 1652

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