Jules Laforgue: Pierrots (One Has Principles)

She said in her typically vain way,
“I love you for yourself”--oh, right, a likely story;
yes, like art!  Settle down, oh dream of gold,
      you're only fool's gold.

She went on:  “I’m waiting… here I am… I don’t know”
Her look was as fake as the moon--
come on!-- could we have learned so little
      from her down here?

Then one lovely but ill-fated evening,
she died--Great! change the subject!
We know you’re to be reborn on the third
      day, if not in person, at least

in the fragrance, lushness, and flowing brooks
      of summer months;
and, picking up more fools, you will go
to the veil of Gioconda, to her skirt.
      I may even be one of them.