IN that shadow-land, where the Sisters three
Are weaving the web of destiny,
There floated once through the fateful gloom
A thread of sunshine, that gleamed upon
The thread of a life from the distaff drawn,
And mingling, they passed to the busy loom.
The wondering Parcea looked and smiled,
As the light grew into the soul of a child,
And in and out and through devious ways,
They wove it in with the woof of days.
But they said on earth ( who knew not the Fates )
“As the lily's chalice holds the dew,
So in her heart, at the morning's gates,
She caught the sunshine, when she came through.”