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Three lovely sisters working were, As they were closely set, Of soft and dainty maidenhair A curious armillet. I, smiling, asked them what they did, Fair Destinies all three, Who told me they had drawn a thread Of life, and 'twas for me. They show'd me then how fine 'twas spun, And I reply'd thereto,— "I care not now how soon 'tis done, Or cut, if cut by you".

When one is past, another care we have: Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.

Julia and I did lately sit Playing for sport at cherry-pit: She threw; I cast; and, having thrown, I got the pit, and she the stone. Cherry-pit, a game in which cherry-stones were pitched into a small hole.

Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be With leaves and moss-work for to cover me: