Rivers to the Sea (Collection)/The Rose

by Sara Teasdale

For works with similar titles, see The Rose.

 

THE ROSE

Beneath my chamber window
Pierrot was singing, singing;
⁠I heard his lute the whole night thru
⁠Until the east was red.
Alas, alas, Pierrot,
I had no rose for flinging
⁠Save one that drank my tears for dew
⁠Before its leaves were dead.

I found it in the darkness,
I kissed it once and threw it,
⁠The petals scattered over him,
⁠His song was turned to joy;
And he will never know—
Alas, the one who knew it!—
⁠The rose was plucked when dusk was dim
⁠Beside a laughing boy.