T'was many a seasons ago,
That the season came too soon,
And I built a cottage on shores,
Under the shine from gracie's moon;
And this maiden she was fair,
And shy as a daffodil in bloom,
She came out every night,
And I bore witness to gracie's moon;
Every night the lady lifted,
A few grains of sand from the shore,
And held it in her flower clasped palms,
With passion I'd ne'er seen before;
And she smiled at these tiny crystals,
She held so close , and sang a tune,
She lifted her golden hair , And blew
The sand towards gracie's moon;
And did this , she did every night,
I spent watching her with eyes of awe,
I saw gracie every night and her sand,
And gracie's moon every night I saw;
Did she this , for many months,
Until my cottage was done,
And that when I seeked gracie,
Her sand in the time of life hath run;
Pity was I , that I could not see,
My beloved after I had rested my weary arm,
The moon hath sunk on gracie for a grey day,
She had befallen the greatest harm;
I wandered across the breaking waves,
Lifting the sands my maiden had cherished,
The shores did not know, and were still moving,
Whilst their moon , she had perished;
It was a night of the full moon,
Yes , t'was the same gracie's moon,
That I crept bare feet to the shore,
And chiored for gracie , the oldest croon;
I picked sand from the floor ,
Like gracie had taught me in my eyes,
And I hummed the same old tune,
And blew towards gracie's skies;
T'was then that I heard , a prayer,
That gracie blew towards her moon,
" For all my stars and heavens,
May his cottage be finished soon";
What mercy hath undone me,
My beloved to be , was long last not mine,
I built a cottage under gracie's moon,
But gracie's moon did shed no shine;