Star over Bethlehem - Agatha Christie [22]
PIERROT GROWN OLD
HERE upon the hearth together,
Here, where once the children played,
I and Pierrette watch together,
I and Pierrette undismayed.
Hand in hand we played as children,
In the bygone days of old,
Now we watch the shadows lengthen,
I and Pierrette—growing old …
Pierrette’s hand has left the blind
Half unlatched, and, from behind
Darkening clouds, there shines the moon …
(On the hearth the ashes flicker,
Pierrot, does your heart beat quicker?
Even now in grey December,
As you look, and you remember
Earlier days when you went singing,
Set the whole wide world a-ringing
With your song of love and pain? )
Turn you back to where the ember
Strangely kindled dies again …
Shun the moon lest you remember
Columbine, who died so soon …
Something stirring in the garden …
Some soft footfall on the grass …
(What takes Pierrot to the window,
Watching whose light foot shall pass? )
Flash of spangle in the moonlight!
Crash of thunder! Lightning gleam!
Is it two who dance together
As immortals in a dream?
(Dreaming only brings one pain,
Can the dead return again? )
Hark! a step upon the pathway!
Hush! a hand upon the door!
Then the door swings slowly open,
There’s a step upon the floor …
Just a rustle and a sigh,
There beside me—close, close by …
Some wild bird flown in for shelter?
No! for I could swear I felt her
Tender lips on mine …
Bringing back to me again
All the splendour and the pain!
It is Columbine …
Crash! the door blows to again!
Dark the room and strangely cold …
Pierrette, rising from her seat,
Pulls the blind with sudden heat,
Shuts the moon from out my sight
(Pierrette ever hates its light)!
Is there anger in her eyes?
Knowledge, fear, and swift surprise?
(Strange the room should turn so cold …
Pierrot! You are growing old …)
She and I the selfsame folk
Bound together by the yoke
Of the common years together …
Through the fair or clouded weather.
So shall we, the selfsame clay,
Watch the ashes growing grey …
Lead me back, then, where the fire
Gives one leap of last desire!
Flickers faint and fitful yet,
As a heart that would forget …
Moon-dreams only bring one pain!
Can the dead return again?
Columbine died in the past …
And the fire burns out at last …
EPILOGUE: SPOKEN BY PUNCHINELLO
THE Play is done! The Tale is told!
Off masks, and bow
Before you pass your way!
Comes the old Showman now
And speaks his lines as best he may.
Buffoon is he, well known and loved of old,
A pleasant wag, a merry fellow!
Oh! all the world loves Punchinello!
Touch my hump for luck, sirs!
Laugh and laugh again!
If I cannot make you laugh,
What’s the good of pain?
She I loved in days of old
Wedded me for love of gold.
If I dreamed her heart was mine,
True as that of Columbine,
Soon the veil was torn aside,
Puppet heart, and puppet bride!
Just a painted puppet thing,
Dancing on a golden string!
Touch my hump for luck, then,
Touch and come again!
If I cannot make you laugh,
What’s the good of pain?
Harlequin and Columbine
Dance through life without a sign,
And no more upon the green
Pierrette’s dancing feet are seen.
No one knows why Pierrot sighs—
Punchinello never dies …
Simple mirth and homely jest!
So the children loved him best.
Men and women play you false,
But until the end,
He who makes the children laugh,
Is the children’s friend!
The Tale is told! The Play is o’er!
The Lines are said!
The Puppets pass their way …
Their names may fade
But they themselves shall live alway,
And they shall play the parts they played before,
While Time shall make the Play more mellow,