Classic Poem

P IERRETTE has gone, but it was not
— Exactly that she died,
So much as vanished and forgot
— To say where she would hide.

To keep a sudden rendezvous,
— It came into her mind
That she was late. What could she do
— But leave distress behind?

Afraid of being in disgrace,
— And hurrying to dress,
She heard there was another place
— In need of loveliness.

She went so softly and so soon,
— She hardly made a stir;
But going, took the stars and moon
— And sun away with her.