Richard Burton

(1861-1940 / United States)

Here Lies Pierrot

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!

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