through yonder window breaks?
It is that perfect love
that promised rescuer
hovering in the distance;
not even Juliet on her balcony
had cheeks as fair as these --
O Romeo, Romeo,
the women all are wondering --
sick and pale with grief --
wherefore art thou,
and when will you climb down
from your distance
surrounded by and covered with
hearts, roses and ribbons --
all signs of love for me,
only for me?
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