'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 to-night,
 And my heart is broken -- it's strange, you know.