O, Clotho, what thought have you to weave such jests?
No mortal thought toward you against!
Thy nimble hands, they weave too quick,
a braided thread, nay long nor thick.
Upon Lachesis, yon thread is passed,
who keeps it in her lissome grasp.
A long, long life, ordeals a'plenty,
in thy mind's eye, distill wrath or envy.
Atropos, friend of Hades dear,
Hag of ages, mortal's seer!
A duty trusted unto thy blade
Evanescent and fleeting we must remain.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
O, Clotho, what thought have you to weave such jests?
No mortal thought toward you against!
Thy nimble hands, they weave too quick,
a braided thread, nay long nor thick.
Upon Lachesis, yon thread is passed,
who keeps it in her lissome grasp.
A long, long life, ordeals a'plenty,
in thy mind's eye, distill wrath or envy.
Atropos, friend of Hades dear,
Hag of ages, mortal's seer!
A duty trusted unto thy blade
Evanescent and fleeting we must remain.
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