’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 the 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 strained 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 of woe; I sit by a new-made grave tonight, And my heart is broken—it’s strange, you know.