I, that am Pierrot, pray you pity me! To be so young, so old in misery: See me, and how the winter of my grief Wastes me, and how I whiten like a leaf, And how, like a lost child, lost and afraid, I seek the shadow, I that am a shade, I that have loved a moonbeam, nor have won Any Diana to Endymion. Pity me, for I have but loved too well The hope of the too fair impossible. Ah, it is she, she, Columbine: again I see her, and I woo her, and in vain. She lures me with her beckoning finger-tips; How her eyes shine for me, and how her lips Bloom for me, roses, roses, red and rich! She waves to me the white arms of a witch Over the world: I follow, I forget All, but she'll love me yet, she'll love me yet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHT, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE PORPHYRIA'S LOVER by ROBERT BROWNING DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FIRST SNOWFALL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SONNET: 10. TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY by JOHN MILTON THE SNOW MAN by WALLACE STEVENS |