Pierrot
By Olive Custance
 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. . . .
. . . . 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.