A smiling moon is a hearts desire ,
But eclipses are what make it worth ,
O forlorn night why do you despair?
Your deepest sorrow is your prettiest attire. ...
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.