GOOD-BYE, PIERRETTE

By Theodosia Garrison

Good-bye, Pierrette. The new moon waits

Like some shy maiden at the gates

Of rose and pearl, to watch us stand

This little moment, hand in hand —

Nor one red rose its watch abates.

The low wind through your garden prates

Of one this twilight desolates.

Ah, was it this your roses planned?

Good-bye, Pierrette.

Oh, merriest of little mates,

No sadder lover hesitates

Beneath this moon in any land;

Nor any roses, watchful, bland,

Look on a sadder jest of Fate's.

Good-bye, Pierrette.