Divided

Divided by no act of thine or mine, Forever parted by a fatal deed, A fatal feud. Alas! when fathers bleed, The children shall fulfil the wild design.

A Montague hath killed a Capulet, A Capulet hath slain a Montague,-- Twin graves, twin sorrows, and oh, mad to-do Of vengeance! oh, dread entail of regret!

There lie they in their dark, self-chosen graves, And from them cries Hate’s everlasting ghost,-- “Blood hath been shed, and Love and ye are slaves,

Time wrecks, and freedom drifts upon life’s coast.” Yet not for us the relish of that doom Which found a throne upon a Juliet’s tomb.