Beneath my chamber window <br />Pierrot was singing, singing; <br />I heard his lute the whole night thru <br />Until the east was red. <br />Alas, alas Pierrot, <br />I had no rose for flinging <br />Save one that drank my tears for dew <br />Before its leaves were dead. <br /> <br />I found it in the darkness, <br />I kissed it once and threw it, <br />The petals scattered over him, <br />His song was turned to joy; <br />And he will never know-- <br />Alas, the one who knew it! <br />The rose was plucked when dusk was dim <br />Beside a laughing boy.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose/
