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!