John Myers O'Hara

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.