Adelaide Crapsey


Poem by Adelaide Crapsey

For Aubrey Beardsley's picture

Pierrot is dying:
Tiptoe in,
Finger touched to lip,
Columbine and Clown.

Hugh! how still he lies
In his bed,
White slipped hand and white
Sunker head.
Oh, poor Pierrot.

There's his dressing gown
Across the chair,
Slippers in the floor. . .
Can he hear
Us who tiptoe in?

Pillowed high he lies
In his bed;
Listen Columbine.
'He is dead.'
Oh, poor Pierrot.

Comments about Pierrot by Adelaide Crapsey

There is no comment submitted by members..
Pierrot Score Card

User Rating:
2,7 / 5 (10 votes)0

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Monday, April 19, 2010