Not long ago or far away it was;
"O, Romeo, wherefore can't thou be mine?"
Our Juliet will never cry, because
She knows that God frown's on their love's vine.
Our Romeo will never yet complain
Because he knows his Juliet is lost.
The lovers can't stand on an open plain
And feel their love wihtout scorn's fatal frost.
The world, it seems, would look upon them there
And kill them, lest they taint its greater sight.
So torn apart and thrown away from care,
The lovers know they'll never find a light.
. What will they do? How can their love prevail?
. O, it cannot- They have resigned to fail.