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.






WE MUST LIVE ON

We must live on; a deeper tragedy:
To see, to touch, to know, and to desire;
To feel in every vein the glorious fire
Of Eden, and to cry, "Oh, to be free!"

To cry, "Oh, wipe the gloomy stain away,
Thou who first raised the sword, Who gave the hilt
Into the hand of man. This blood they spilt--
Our fathers--oh, blot out the bitter day!