two lovers

O Fortune, cruel and capricious sprite,
That dost toy with the threads of our fates,
Hear now the woeful tale of this wretched wight,
And the love that the world berates.

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
A city of beauty, of art, and of strife,
Two gentle maidens, scarce past fifteen,
Did find in each other the light of life.

Sweet Isabella, my heart's sole delight,
In thine eyes did I see the stars' own gleam.
But our love was hid from the day's bright light,
A tender secret, a whispered dream.

For the world, in its vast and rigid span,
Would not countenance our pure affection.
'Twas not meet for maid to love maid, nor man to shun
The ordained path, the expected direction.

Thus, we met in shadow, under Luna's chaste glow,
Exchanging vows that none but the heavens could hear.
Our hearts did swell, and yet, full well we did know,
That our joy was mingled with dread and fear.

For the morrow's light would bring the harsh truth nigh,
That our love was deemed unnatural, a sin most dire.
And so, with heavy hearts and many a sigh,
We resolved to escape this mortal mire.

A vial of poison, bitter and cold,
Became the key to our final, desperate plight.
To drink deep, and in death's gentle hold,
Find solace from the world's unkind slight.

So here I stand, my soul awash with sorrow,
For the morrow shall find us in eternal sleep.
No fear of discovery shall we know on the morrow,
For in the grave, our love shall keep.

But let not our end be in vain, I pray,
Let it speak to the hearts of those yet to come.
Mayhap, in some future, enlightened day,
Love shall be free, and hate struck dumb.

Farewell, sweet Isabella, my love, my life,
Our souls shall soon on the wings of night take flight.
Together in death, free from strife,
Our love shall shine, an everlasting light.