Upon deaths door young loves have fallen,
here this night three we have lost,
to whom shall justice be given?
Both names have fought.
The Friar, a holy man, to him we look,
a confession of truth has bought him pardon,
the letter which Romeo's man took,
has lifted Friars burdens.
Another has also ushered these souls through,
through the door, black with mortal sin is he,
the seller of poison, his punishment he knew,
and now from the gallows quiet and still he be.
The last in this sharply pointed triangle,
which has stabbed true love is the Nurse,
away from Verona with her nerves in tangle,
never to return, spread elswhere her curse.
Capulet and Montague now on the same plane,
shall the death of love remove the families stain.
1 month ago
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