Between the narrow beams of dark and day—
Time’s shifting loom, the toil of threefold fate.
XC
At their eternal task the sisters dread,
Who spin and weave and shear the slender thread
With all its dyes, that doth sustain and fill
This tangled web from pole to pole outspread.
XCI
The arras that doth clothe the house of Time,
Stained with the hues of all man’s bliss and crime:—