Had I not, in Brutus’s time,
Tamed the love of my master’s command,
And wrought the affection, to witness it torn apart,
And find love abound another start,
In a different time: the hand of a stranger’s in mine.
The firmament of angels sings at last:
For he in himself had fought the indecency of a fractured heart,
And the shroud lifted proves himself able:
That he whom had his love denied,
Revoked, and tried, will soon find affection again,
Weary at the turn of a knife.
by Walter Carvel