Robert Service

‘Twas a year ago and the moon was bright
   (Oh, I remember so well, so well);
I walked with my love in a sea of light,
   And voice of my sweet was a silver bell.
And sudden the moon grew strangely dull,
   And sudden my love had taken wing;
I looked on the face of a grinning skull,
   I stained to my heart a ghastly thing.

‘Twas but fantasy, for my love lay still,
   In my arms, with her tender eyes aglow,
And she wondered why my lips were chill,
   Why I was silent and kissed her so.
A year has gone and the moon is bright,
   A gibbous moon like a ghost woe;
I sit by a new-made grave to-night,
   And my heart is broken – it’s strange, you know.