Fain (could it be) would I a home obtain,
And warm me by a hearth-side of my own.
Then, then, I'd sing about the sweet birds' strain,
And fields and flowers, as I have whilome done; ...
Worthy art thou, returning home, the bell
For thee should ring, and crowds come gathering round
To gaze, how as a gladdening miracle
Thou com'st, of sin or shame all blameless found. ...
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.