And listened to the tender tune
Of nightingales,—Here lies Pierrot!
Our foolish vows of passion shook
The very stars, they trembled so.
How it comes back, her soft, shy look,
Now I am dead! Here lies Pierrot!
These other men and maids, who stroll
Through moonlit poplar trees arow,
Does each play the enchanted rôle
We phantoms played? Here lies Pierrot!