My love for you? Pure as the strangest of lights,
as thou the stars peeped deep into my soul.
My love for you? Flows as the loneliest of seas,
like dark magic dwells in my heart. ...
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.