WHAT though no folk who saw her knew
At heart she was Pierrette,
Who went her sober way
In robe and face of gray?
Still down a laughing path of dream
Her flashing feet were set,
To clink of gold guitars,
Rose-scent and glint of stars!

But when he came who should have known
Her kin to star and flower
And left her heart unfound,
Nor robe nor mask unbound,
She went her way by daylight still,
And seemed to live her hour,
Firm hands and lifted head–
Only Pierrette was dead.