Now dreary dawns the eastern light, and fall of eve is drear

The half-moon westers low, my love,
  And the wind brings up the rain;
And wide apart lie we, my love,
  And seas between the twain.

I know not if it rains, my love,
  In the land where you do lie;
And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,
  You know no more than I.

The half-moon wester low, my love (XXVI from "Last Poems") by A.E. Housman

BLACKROCKCITY

What's Cookin' by Žiga Murko