Poems (Katharine Elizabeth Howard)/The wheel
THE WHEEL
Alas! The Ladye would know her fate,So she knocked three times on the Dooms-Day Gate.The night was black, it was late and lateWhen the Ladye entered the Dooms-Day Gate.Fate, in a veil that covered her face,Was weaving her wonderful web of lace;Time, the Potter, was whirring his wheel,Turning his vase of woe and weal.
Said the Ladye fair, "I would know my fate;For this have I entered the Dooms-Day Gate."
"Do not hasten Time, it is wise to wait,"Under her veil, said the voice of Fate;"'Tis the vase of your life he is turning there;To hurry Time, 'tis a fool would dare." But the Ladye said, "I would know, forsooth!Let it cost as it will, or wrack or ruth."
No sooner the words had the Ladye saidThan hope within her went dead and dead;She heard the crash of the Dooms-Day bellAnd all went black as the mouth of Hell!She heard a rumbling afar and nearAnd a strange weird voice a-sound in her ear—
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee,"Moaned the wheel that creaked eternally,Whirring and whirring around and 'round,A thin weird voice of sombre soundWinding forever and yet unwound,"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee."
Whirring on to Eternity,A-moan inside of the Dooms-Day Gate,The creaking turn of the wheel of Fate,Turning early and turning late,"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee"—
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee,"Whirring on to Eternity,Louder and louder and dimmer and dim,The creak in the center spread to the rimLike the sound of a goblet rubbed on the brim,"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeeeee"—
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee,You who would know your fate, hear me.Put in your hand in the fateful vaseThe while your pattern of life I traceInto the web of my wonderful lace,O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee."
As her hand went into the fateful vase,Oh, the look that came in that Ladye's face!Crash! Went the sound of the Dooms-Day bell.The lightnings flashed! O Hell! O Hell!
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee—You who would fool with destinie,I have you fast in the fateful vase; I'll do . . . and I'll do . . . your beautiful face—I'll weave it into the web of my lace,O Riddle Me Ree O eece O eeeee—.
"You will struggle in vain, my fair Ladye.I have your hand in my fatal grasp;Till I weave my web it shall not unclasp,Not even unto your dying gasp,O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee—,
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeeee—And you shall see what you shall see.You may struggle early and struggle late,You can not escape from the hand of Fate,—The hand of Fate is insatiate.O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeeeee—
"The web is woven—your hand is free,—Your hand is free and it holds a glass—'Tis the glass of Time." "Alas! Alas!Oh, what has happened? And where am I?"The Ladye cried with a terrible cry.
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeeee—Look in the glass, my fair Ladye,And you can see what I've been about,Weaving you in and weaving you out,Forever to know and never to doubt,O Riddle Me Ree O eeee O eeeeeee—
"O Riddle Me Ree O eeeee O eeeeeeeee,—You who would hurry your destinieLook in the glass and see and see,O Riddle Me Ree O eeee O eeeeee . . ."The voice came fine and the voice came smallTill it fainted away to nothing at all—"O Riddle Me Ree O eeee O eeeeee . . . . ."