Claire V. Bogdanos

Ah, Pierrot, what pale tear doth rest upon thy cheek

And lingers there while thou hast not the tongue to speak

To quell this agony within thy breast that swells

Not either strength to leave nor voice to thy love tell?

Hence thou dost act each night a role that hath no end

To veil thy life without one lover or one friend.

T’would be the love for whom you’ve pined yet been denied

Dost sense not hour , day nor year through which thou hast cried.

Thus as this force continued on in weary grief

Thou garnered not the halting grace it must to leave.

But made thyself a servant silent to her will

And like some mindless fool forever loved her still.