He'll come a hundred times, my dear,
Before your turn to die."




Pierrot



Pierrot stands in the garden
Beneath a waning moon,
And on his lute he fashions
A little silver tune.

Pierrot plays in the garden,
He thinks he plays for me,
But I am quite forgotten
Under the cherry tree.

Pierrot plays in the garden,
And all the roses know
That Pierrot loves his music,
But I love Pierrot.




At Night