Pierrot

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