My heart was a graveyard before you came
Your arrival was violently gentle
So aggressively you made my barren land your own;
You took my dead trees and breathed life into them as you did me ...
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.