My heart was red, until it became Grey.
My sun was bright, until it lost it's ray.
I watched you with my teary eyes
I could hear your whispers telling me goodbyes. ...
Late, late yestreen I saw the new moon,
With the old moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my master dear!
We shall have a deadly storm.
Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.