Poems (Forrest)/Pierrot
PIERROT
I did not ask Pierrot to come—
And so, of course, Pierrot has come.
To anyone who asks him in
Pierrot excuses will begin;
And if you say you're not at home
Pierrot will come.
And so, of course, Pierrot has come.
To anyone who asks him in
Pierrot excuses will begin;
And if you say you're not at home
Pierrot will come.
His face is white. But oh, his eyes!
What eyes were ever more alive!
The cap is black upon his head:
Frail Columbine, perhaps, is dead,
And Pierrot need no longer strive
For quips to keep her love alive.
What eyes were ever more alive!
The cap is black upon his head:
Frail Columbine, perhaps, is dead,
And Pierrot need no longer strive
For quips to keep her love alive.
I did not ask Pierrot to come.
Along the panel of my door
I saw a slender shadow pass
Like wind-blown leaf, like moving grass,
His heel-less slippers on the floor
Tripped airily inside my door.
Along the panel of my door
I saw a slender shadow pass
Like wind-blown leaf, like moving grass,
His heel-less slippers on the floor
Tripped airily inside my door.
I did not ask Pierrot to come.
But in his hand he held a rose—
The rose was faded, his caress
Had kissed its red to tiredness. . .
And now my heart beats quick. It knows
That it must break if Pierrot goes!
But in his hand he held a rose—
The rose was faded, his caress
Had kissed its red to tiredness. . .
And now my heart beats quick. It knows
That it must break if Pierrot goes!