The Great War

from Great Poems of the World War, an electronic edition

Pierrot Goes

UP among the chimneys tall

Lay the garret of Pierrot.

Here came trooping to his call

Fancies no one else might know;

Here he bade the spiders spin

Webs to hide his treasure in.

Here he heard the night wind croon

Slumber-songs for sleepyheads;

Here he spied the spendthrift moon

Strew her silver on the leads;

Here he wove a coronet

Of quaint lyrics for Pierrette.

But the bugles blew him down

To the fields with war beset;

Marched him past the quiet town,

Past the window of Pierrette;

Comrade now of sword and lance,

Pierrot gave his dreams to France.