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!