Come then, as ever, like the wind at morning!
Joyous, O Youth, in the agèd world renew
Freshness to feel the eternities around it,
Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew. ...
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.