'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.