Pierrot

PIERROT . . . . Pierrot . . . . at first they said you slept,
    And then they told me you would never wake . . . .
    I dared not think . . . . I watched the white day break,
The yellow lamps go out . . . . I have not wept.

But now I kiss your dear cold hands and weep ;
    Shaken with sobs I cower beside the bed . . . .
    At last I realise that you are dead . . . .
Drawn suddenly into the arms of sleep. . . .

Love ! . . . you will never look at me again
    With those rain-coloured, heavy-lidded eyes,
    Closed now for ever . . . . Pierrot, was it wise
To love so madly since we loved in vain ?

In vain ! in vain ! . . . but Pierrot, it was sweet
    To stem the stealthy hours with wine and song ! . . .
    Though death stood up between us stern and strong,
And fate twined nets to trip our dancing feet . . . .

The Yellow Book—Vol. XIII. H

                                                . . . . Too

. . . . Too soon, alas ! too soon our summer swooned
    To bitter winter . . . . and against the lace
    Of tossed white pillows lay a reckless face,
With feverish parched mouth like a red wound. . . .

Yet still was our brave love not overthrown,
    And I would nestle at your side and see
    Your large sad eyes grow passionate for me. . . .
Love ! wake and speak . . . . I cannot live alone. . .

Blue as blue flame is the great sky above . . . .
    The earth is wonderful and glad and green ;
    But shut the sunlight out . . . . for I have seen
Forgetfulness upon the face of love.