Explore "The Rose" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
BENEATH my chamber window / Pierrot was singing, singing; / I heard his lute the whole night thru / Until the east was red.
Alas, alas, Pierrot, / I had no rose for flinging / Save one that drank my tears for dew / Before its leaves were dead.
I found it in the darkness, / I kissed it once and threw it, / The petals scattered over him, / His song was turned to joy; / And he will never know -- / Alas, the one who knew it! -- / The rose was plucked when dusk was dim / Beside a laughing boy.