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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

The Norns

Sisters gathering and spinning a many-hued fate,
Nine Worlds, and the greatest of Trees, sorrow at your gate;
Crimson thread, scarlet thread, weaving fate,
Could it be a yellow thread, a golden thread of dawn?
             It is not late.

Sisters fearless and ruthless under the spreading Tree,
Nine Worlds are watching you, cold with jealousy;
Crimson thread, scarlet thread, weaving fate,
Could it be a blue thread, gathering the waters of life?
             It will soon be late.

Sisters, we hear the dreaded ghastly loom clack and groan,
Maidens are weeping to hear the thread twist and moan;
Crimson thread, scarlet thread, weaving fate,
Could it be a white thread, of maiden soon to wed?
             Let it not yet be late.

Sisters lovely and black-robed, young and heartless and grim,
Spinning the many-colored thread: Can you not spare him?
Crimson thread, scarlet thread, weaving fate,
Could it be a green thread, bright and fiery as leaves?
             Before it is too late.

Sisters, we hear a thin shriek, the snip of living thread,
Strong men and babes icy in the dark halls of the dead;
Crimson thread, scarlet thread, weaving fate,
Could it be a purple thread, of blossom and flower?
             It is now too late.

Cameron La Follette

- License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided
it remains unchanged, including copyright notice and this License -
 

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