Richard Burton

(1861-1940 / United States)

Here Lies Pierrot - Poem by Richard Burton

The moon's ashine; by many a lane
Walk wistful lovers to and fro;
It must be like old days again;
How they do love! Here lies Pierrot.

She loved me once, did Columbine.
It sets my dusty heart aglow
Merely to lie and dream how fine
Her semblance was, - Here lies Pierrot!

Her perfumed presence, silks and lace,
Did madden men and wrought them woe;
For me alone her witching grace.
Where is she now? Here lies Pierrot.

We two walked once beneath the moon -
Yellow it hung, and large and low -
And listened to the tender tune
Of nightingales, - Here lies Pierrot!

Our foolish vows of passion shook
The very stars, they trembled so.
How it comes back, her soft, shy look,
Now I am dead! Here lies Pierrot!

These other men and maids, who stroll
Through moonlit poplar trees arow,
Does each play the enchanted rôle
We phantoms played? Here lies Pierrot!

O joy, that I remember yet
Sweet follies of long ago!
Dear heaven, I would not quite forget!
The moon's ashine; Here lies Pierrot!

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 2010



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