THE BELLS AT MIDNIGHT
[September 19, 1881]
In their dark House of Cloud
The three weird sisters toil till time be sped;
One unwinds life, one ever weaves the shroud,
One waits to part the thread.
I
CLOTHO
How long, O sister, how long
Ere the weary task is done?
How long, O sister, how long
Shall the fragile thread be spun?
LACHESIS
'Tis mercy that stays her hand,
Else she had cut the thread;
She is a woman too,
Like her who kneels by his bed!
ATROPOS
Patience! the end is come;
He shall no more endure:
See! with a single touch!—
My hand is swift and sure!
II
Two Angels pausing in their flight.
FIRST ANGEL
Listen! what was it fell
An instant ago on my ear—
A sound like the throb of a bell
From yonder darkling sphere!