Book 3 — Prescience.

The new moon hung in the sky, The sun was low in the west, And my betrothed and I In the churchyard paused to rest— Happy maiden and lover, Dreaming the old dream over: The light winds wandered by, And robins chirped from the nest. And lo! in the meadow-sweet Was the grave of a little child, With a crumbling stone at the feet, And the ivy running wild— Tangled ivy and clover Folding it over and over: Close to my sweetheart's feet Was the little mound up-piled. Stricken with nameless fears, She shrank and clung to me, And her eyes were filled with tears For a sorrow I did not see: Lightly the winds were blowing, Softly her tears were flowing— Tears for the unknown years And a sorrow that was to be!